Marchin On
by bookworm1818
Summary: Kate has taken a break from her mother's murder, for now. She knows Castle would do anything for her, even run into the line of fire. But she never thought he would proove it to her when they walked into that warehouse...
1. Prologue

**Hi everyone! **

**CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR 2x13, 3x13, 3x24, 4x01, and any other episodes before 4x08 that talk about Johanna Beckett's murder!**

**So... this idea's been bugging me for quite a while, I'm going to try my best, and we'll have to see how it goes! I never intended to write a story that was more than three chapters, so this will be interesting. I tend to lose interest after a while, but I think I can finish this one! I'm deciding to challenge myself by really going in depth in Johanna Beckett's murder... we'll see how this goes. I'm planning on making this around 6-15 chapters, and I've got the basic storyline down, but I have the feeling this might just kind of go rogue and get out of my control! Also, after 4x08, I will most likely not be following any moments from Castle episodes or developments the Caskett's relationship, Beckett's mother's case, or anything else,**

**Also, the inspiration for the title was Marhchin On by OneRepublic, a good song, and reminds me of Caskett!**

**Your reviews will be my motivation! I LOVE reviews! Funny thing is, I don't even need nice reviews. I'm just trying to get better at writing, so if you think my story is crap, let me know and why you think that! ALL suggestions are much appreciated! Thanks!**

* * *

><p>We'll have the days we break,<br>And we'll have the scars to prove it,  
>We'll have the bonds that we save,<br>But we'll have the heart not to lose it.

For all of the times we've stopped,  
>For all of the things I'm not.<p>

We put one foot in front of the other,  
>We move like we ain't got no other,<br>We go when we go,  
>We're marching on.<p>

There's so many wars we fought,  
>There's so many things we're not,<br>But with what we have,  
>I promise you that,<br>We're marching on.

_Marchin On_ by OneRepublic

"Here's your money." Richard Castle offered to the Taxi cab driver, handing him a few bills before pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket and discreetly revealing it to the driver. "And there's another five hundred for you if I was never here."

The pale, slim-faced cabby nodded slightly before slipping the money out of Castle's hand.

Castle climbed out of the Taxi Cab, eyeing the street nervously. Considering the late hour, it was very busy. Several couples wandered the sidewalk; a drunk or two was stumbling across the road.

Castle pressed his arm against his side, finding some comfort when he felt the concealed hand gun hidden under his jacket. If Beckett found out, he knew she'd kill him. He didn't have a carry permit, let alone a concealed weapon permit. If he ran into the wrong person, he could be facing a couple years in prison. For the first time, Castle really thought about the potential consequences of this decision. He couldn't tell anyone about this trip, so there was no way for the mayor to get him out of this one, nor his relations with the police. And Alexis, the idea of her having to come and visit her father in jail because he was found illegally armed and wandering through the bad parts of the Bronx, unable to explain himself was unthinkable. That is, if he even made it to prison. There was a reason he was walking through a bad neighborhood at night, illegally armed with a gun.

Richard turned and started walking down the street, towards his destination, a small diner on the corner. It was an old brick building layered with apartments above it. The front door was painted white. The years had not been kind to the building, the door handle was rusted, the paint was chipping, and the bricks were crumbling. Castle liked the place; it kind of reminded him of the Old Haunt. A classic gem in a city that had long forgotten it.

As Castle approached the door, he brushed his coat back slightly, fingering his gun, and used his other hand to pull his baseball cap down further over his eyes. He knew what was supposed to be on the other side of the door, but what was really there, he had no clue. Carefully, he turned the handle and the old door squeaked open.

The restaurant was vacant except for an old drunk, a couple kissing each other passionately in the corner booth, and a man sitting alone at a small table for two. He was older, balding, and wore a beige trench coat. Carefully, Castle made his way over to the table. The lone man glanced at him, pulling his coat back to reveal a handgun, and raised his eyebrows at Rick. Castle took off his baseball hat, before reaching out and offering to shake the man's hand. The older of the two merely stared, before turning to take another drink of his beer.

"Sit." He demanded. His voice was deep and quiet, and one that Castle instantly recognized. It was the voice of the man that had called him a few months ago, warning him that Kate needed to stay away. A gift and a blessing, all in one. It finally gave Castle the courage to stop her, but if she ever knew that he pushed her away when he had new information, she would never speak to him again. But for Richard Castle, the latter was bearable if she was still alive.

Castle sat himself at the table, pushing the chair in as close to the table as he could. He strategically placed his right hand on his gun, preparing himself for anything. He didn't have Beckett to watch his back right now. The thought caused him to jump. What if she had followed him here? Could she have someone watching him? Maybe she wanted to make sure he stayed safe and had a security detail on him... if she found out... he knew what would happen. She'd run from him, refusing to let him explain (not that there was an excuse for his behavior), and jump right back into the line of fire, only this time, she wouldn't make it out. The thought was unbearable, and he instinctively glanced around the bar, trying to figure out where a hiding spot could be. He listened for her, after all, he knew the sound of her breathing- possible the sweetest noise one could hear- like he knew the back of his hand... not that he knew the back of his hand very well. Really, who made up such a silly simile? At what point in time would one spend hours memorizing the back of their hand? The idea was ridiculous really; a much better example would be-

"Would you like anything to drink?" The grim-faced man across the table asked, interrupting Castle's anxious thoughts.

"No, thank you." Castle did not trust this man. He knew too much, whereas Castle knew far, far too little. Right now, he was completely oblivious to what he was up against. He was running into this completely blind. This man could be anyone, friend or foe, and he could do just about anything to Castle, be that shoot him, poison him, stab him, strangle him, torture him, kidnap him... or, absolutely nothing. This man knew exactly what cards Castle could play, which made Rick very wary of the situation.

"You wanted to talk to me." Castle stated blandly. He was a writer; he was used to elaborating, but right now, less was more.

"Yes. You can call me John. Ya know, I like that, a man that cuts to the main point. Too many people these days spend their time running from the issue at hand. They try to fill the world with small talk, but it just makes people stupid. But you, you don't care about any of that, you just want the truth. It's an admirable quality, but one I'd expect to see in a cop, not a writer." He took another sip of beer. "But in this case, all I can give you is small talk. I can't tell you the truth. If I do, they'll kill you."

"Who'll kill me?" Castle asked, knowing what the answer would be, but hoping it would be something different.

"That would mean telling you the truth, and I can't do that, Mr. Castle. I can only give you small talk, I'm sure you can appreciate the delicate position I'm in."

"Of course." Castle muttered quietly.

"So, please, I must ask that you hear me out, and understand that I cannot answer all of your questions." He paused, looking at Castle for a response. Castle simply nodded, which he took as encouragement to continue. "When I received the package from Roy, I was in shock. I never thought this would find him again. You see, he first brought this document to me, after the murder of Johanna Beckett, looking for help in protecting his family and Johanna's daughter, Katherine. I quickly realized, as I'm sure you have, that this is much bigger than the murder of a lawyer. If it was anyone else, I would have turned them away, but Roy, Roy was different. I owed him my life."

"So, you were a cop once, too?" Castle asked, which only got him a slight frown in return.

"No, no, I was never an officer." John offered no further clarification, and continued. "I used my... connections to make sure Roy had the protection his family and Ms. Beckett needed. This thing was put away for a while... at least until a warehouse fire broke out."

"And that, that wasn't an accident, was it." Castle stated, because he already knew the answer, though he had tried to convince Kate that the opposite was true.

"That depends on who you ask. The fire chief would honestly say yes, but you and I, we know better." His eye's met Castle's to make sure that his point had been made. Castle glanced away and nodded. This was far more than he had expected to have been told. Whether or not he wanted to know more he did not know. He felt like he was drowning in his lie, which had been started to protect Beckett, but had now grown into a full-fledged mission for the truth right under her nose.

And she would surely hate him for it.

"And you... you can't tell me who did that, can you?" Castle prompted, hoping for another hint.

"No, I couldn't tell you if I wanted to. I don't know who did that. But I have my guesses, which at this time, must be known by myself only." John glanced around the now abandon restaurant before continuing. "Mr. Castle, the source of this is tangled into an intricate web with several other... organizations. Even if you figure it out, you simply can't win. If you bring this thing back to the surface, you will have a gun to your head the rest of your life. The reason I have told you all this is because you need to know some information in order to steer Ms. Beckett away, which based on your actions, you are willing to do. Is that right?"

Castle looked into the man's hazel eyes. They were close to the shade of Kate's. And he could only picture the hurt that would show in those stunning eyes if she ever found out what he had been keeping from her. But then, he thought of what he had come so close to seeing: Kate's eyes, glazed over and lifeless, staring into nothingness, beyond a state of ever being reached again. And that was when he made his decision. The decision that he would much rather have her removed from his world than removed from this world altogether.

"Yes."

"Good. So long as she stays away, she is perfectly safe. I will honor my side of the deal, and they will honor theirs. That is all you need to know for now. I will call you if we need to speak again." John laid money on the table, before standing to leave.

"One more question. Do they know I'm here?" Castle asked, eying the door nervously. Kate wasn't the only person in his life that he loved. His mother and Alexis both needed him, and he needed them safe.

"I would suspect so. They have not been informed nor invited to our meeting, but I think they will agree that it is in their best interest to let you walk out of here alive and let you block Ms. Beckett from the truth." He turned to leave, before facing Castle again. "However, Mr. Castle, it is essential for your safety that you do not seek the truth either."

With that, John left the bar, leaving Castle alone to think about the three spiral notebooks filled with charts, data, observations, guesses, and letters hidden in the safe under the sofa in his office.

* * *

><p><strong>There it is, everyone! Chapter one is done! What did you think? Decent? Crap? Whatever it is, TELL ME! I want to know! Thanks for reading, you guys are the best! Chapter two will probably be up in a couple of days.<strong>


	2. Blink

_Teach me to number my days,  
>And count every moment<br>Before it slips away  
>Take in all the colors<br>Before they fade to grey._

_I don't want to miss  
>Even just a second<br>More of this._

_It happens in a blink, it happens in a flash,  
>It happens in the time it took to look back.<br>I try to hold on tight, but there's no stopping time.  
>What is it I've done with my life?<em>

_Blink, _by Revive

* * *

><p>"Dad?"<p>

Richard Castle jolted awake at the sound of his daughter's voice. He glanced at the door behind him, where she stood. Alexis Castle was dressed in simple blue pajama bottoms and a grey sweatshirt, with her hair messily arranged in a ponytail.

"Hey." He smiled at her, before rubbing his face with his left hand, and quickly writing the remainder of his notes down with his right hand. "What's up?" He asked. Castle closed the notebook, while sliding over on the couch to make room for his daughter. She flopped down onto the sofa next to him, and then turned to look at him.

"Where were you last night?" She asked, with that slight tilt of her head that only occurred when she was serious about learning something.

"I went down to a restaurant in the Bronx to research for Nikki Heat. Why?" He explained with a grin, the well-rehearsed lie flowing smoothly from his mouth. He stood up, grabbing his glass of water from last night and heading for the kitchen.

"I was just worried." She explained as they walked. When they reached the kitchen, she sat down on one of the stools, propping her head up with her hands. "Some of your cases are just a little too Hollywood for me."

Richard walked towards the table, mimicking the way Alexis was leaning against the counter.

"I know you worry. I worry, too." Alexis raised an eyebrow. Castle paused for a moment, contemplating. "I might be over exaggerating a little..."

"Yeah."

"The point is," Castle continued, "I have the best cop in New York watching my back, nothing's gonna happen to me. Besides, nobody ever dies in Hollywood crime, unless it's the bad guy or the plucky sidekick... while I am the handsome, intelligent sidekick-gone-partner." He felt sick. He hated lying to Alexis. Because right now, he was not being careful. He was throwing caution to the wind and running into enemy territory as fast as he could. He couldn't guarantee that he was safe, but part of his statement was true. He did have the best cop in New York watching his back.

As if on cue, his phone started ringing, and Kate Beckett's caller ID image flashed on the screen.

"I've got to... t-...the phone...it's-" He started

"It's fine, Dad." Alexis smiled, stepping of the chair and walking towards the stairs. She stopped at the base of the stairs. "Just no James Bond moves, promise?"

"Ahhh, if you insist." He smiled at her, then grabbed his phone, hit answer, and held it to his ear.

"The name's Castle… Richard Castle."

* * *

><p>Kate parked her car in front of the yellow police tape, which barricaded the front of a small alleyway. She scanned the crowd. Her eyes fell upon his familiar face, causing him to give her a broad smile that stretched across his face and made his mischievous blue eyes to twinkle. Kate grabbed her keys, her badge, and her gun. She got out of her car, walking eagerly towards hi- the crime scene. She slowed momentarily to take her coffee from his left hand- he always held her coffee in his left hand, while held his own in his right- and took a sip.<p>

"Thanks, Castle. You have no idea how bad I needed some coffee." She told him as she ducked under the police tape to where Lanie, Esposito, and Ryan were standing around the body.

"Actually, I did." He replied nonchalantly as he followed her under the tape.

"Wait." She ordered, and when he did not comply quickly enough, she grabbed his arm and pulled him around so that he was facing her. "What was that supposed to mean?" She demanded, raising her eyebrows.

"Well it's just when you get tired you get these dark spots under your eyes and you kind of hunch your shoulders and you..." Castle trailed off as Beckett glared at him. Deciding to just ignore him, she turned sharply and walked away.

"So. Who's our vic?" He asked as he turned and followed her.

"Michael Telvin, King of Crack."

"Telvin? You mean the dealer we've been trying to find?"

"The one and only." Esposito confirmed with a grin.

"And what has Mr. Telvin been up to as of late?" Castle asked.

"The NYPD put out an APB on him three months ago for questioning about a rival dealer's death, but they were never able to find him. We think he's been flying under the radar for a while now. A tenant in the apartment building next door called it in when she stepped out onto her balcony above the alley." He pointed up at the balcony that overlooked the alleyway. "Ryan's just finishing taking her statement now. We found his wallet on him, no cash gone. Killer left the murder weapon, a baseball bat, behind."

"Okay." Beckett nodded. "Lanie, what do you have for me?"

"Our killer must have been awfully angry. Looks like our vic was beat to death." She explained.

"So it wasn't premeditated." Castle interjected.

"I thought so too, but then I found this." Lane continued, holding up the corpse's left hand and pointing to two bloody letters carved on his wrist. "Then, I found this, too." She put the victims arm down, and held his right hand up for the detectives and the writer, which was also engraved.

"BR #7? What's that supposed to mean?" Castle asked, turning to his partner.

"I don't know... I could be identification. Or maybe a clue from a psychopath?"

"I have to get Telvin back to the morgue, but I'll run some toxicology screens to see if our vic was sill into drugs, and I'll also try and figure out what made those carvings on his wrists." Lanie offered.

"Great. Thanks, Lanie." Kate tuned to Esposito. "Why don't you and Ryan get statements from the rest of the tenants in those two buildings?" She suggested, gesturing to the two building on either side of the alley. "Castle and I will head back to the precinct and dig up everything we can on Telvin."

"Hey, before you guys go, I think I have something you'd like to know. I was speaking to Mrs. Trechinsef, and she said that she saw Telvin in the alley the night before when she stepped onto her balcony, and he waved at her. Apparently, it freaked her out so much that she locked the doors shut and didn't go back out until this morning." Ryan explained.

"Well that's not that weird. Strangers wave at me all the time." Castle argued. "It's not creepy."

"Yeah, but Castle, you're a bestselling author. Of course people wave at you." Kate explained with an eye roll. He shrugged, giving in to the idea that she might be right. "We'll see you guys back at the precinct."

She turned and started walking towards her car, with Castle following behind her. Kate couldn't help but smile. He was by far the most loyal man she'd ever met. At first, he'd been so frustrating, but slowly, VERY slowly, she'd gotten used to it. Castle was serious about the things that mattered, but joked about the things that weren't. Somehow, he always knew when she needed him to be quiet, and when she could take a couple of jokes. Now was one of those times when he made her laugh, when she appreciated his confident and casual attitude. She settled into her car, putting the key in the ignition, and turned the car on. Preparing to start backing up, she grasped the steering wheel in her left hand, and whipped her arm around to place it on the passenger seat, but her hand's flight was interrupted when she hit Castle on the side of the face.

"Carefully, Detective! You'll break my sunglasses!" He warned, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Relax, Drama Queen. I'm not gonna wreck your fashion accessory." She countered, placing her hand on the seat, and backing into the street empty street. Two years ago, she would have asked why he was wearing his sunglasses on a cloudy day, but by now, she knew better, and just ignored it. And that worked for the first ten minutes of their drive, but then he started waving at people. And the longer she tried to tune him out, the more he waved at the drivers of the cars that were also on the crowded New York street.

"Castle, what are you doing?" She finally asked when she couldn't take it anymore.

"I am wearing a disguise and waving at people." He stated simply. And that's when Kate Beckett knew he had completely lost it.

"Okay...?"

"When Alexis was little, we used to play what she called The Waving Game. The goal of the game was to wave at people as they drove by, and whoever gets the most people to wave back wins." He explained, plastering a cheesy smile to his face as an old man in a Lexus drove by. "Care to join me?"

"No."

"Suit yourself."

* * *

><p>"What do mean you don't believe me?" Castle cried, appalled and insulted.<p>

"I mean that I find it hard to believe that three hundred and four people will wave back at a stranger during a thirty minute car ride." She explained, seating herself at her desk.

"This is New York; there were thousands of cars around us! Some of them are bound to wave back!" He argued.

"Yeah, but three hundred and four?" She insisted, turning to face him and stubbornly crossing her arms.

"You know, that hurts. I would have thought you'd have more faith in me and my ability to count." He gave her his best wounded puppy-dog eyes.

"I hope you two are working on the Telvin case." Captain Gates warned as she walked towards them.

"The body's on its way to the morgue and Ryan and Esposito are just finishing up getting witness statements. Castle and I are putting our murder board together, then we are going to look through Telvin's financials, get his call history, and check out video footage around the crime scene. CSU is going to be sending us their report in about..." She checked her Dad's watch. "Two hours, and I should have the final report by tomorrow." Beckett explained automatically. She'd adjusted to the quick responses that Gates expected, and was able to rattle off a plan almost instantly.

"Good. Give me an update in a couple hours." Gates turned to leave.

"Sir, if a stranger waved at you, would you wake back?" Castle asked abruptly. Gates pivoted around, studying him.

"Relevance, Mr. Castle?" She asked, he voice cold, but willing to hear him out.

"Well, according to our witness, Telvin waved at her when she stepped out onto her balcony last night." Kate tried to cut him off, but he held up a hand and continued. "I'm not saying he wasn't into something bad, I'm just acknowledging the possibility that it was just a friendly gesture. So, if a stranger waved at you, would you be freaked out, or would you wave back?"

"Of course I wouldn't wave back." Gates stated harshly. Kate turned towards him, hand on her hips, and raised her eyebrows, a faint, cocky grin resting on her lips. "I find that if I just ignore someone, they tend to go away." The Captain shot a quick glance at Castle, and then she was gone, marching over to another detective's desk.

Kate sat back down at her computer, and grabbed her phone. As she started tapping the screen to dial a number, it started ringing.

"Beckett." She answered. Castle leaned in, pressing his ear up against the other side of the phone. He knew he was being awfully bold. Usually when he got this close to crossing the invisible line that had been traced between him, she shut him out, but for now, she allowed him to tip-toe dangerously close. "Oh, hey, I was about to call you."

"Yeah. There b- uh chg p-an." Esposito's voice came from the speaker of the phone, and Castle strained to hear better. Feeling him lean in closer, Kate brought her hand to the phone, accidentally brushing his cheek, and turned up the volume button on the side of the phone so that he could hear. "We think that Telvin was after someone or something in the building. He's been watching the building and its tenants. A couple people remembered seeing him outside the building and around New York, which can't be a coincidence. The woman in apartment 412 thinks she saw him at a bar up in Queens, so Ryan and I are headed there now. I also got a call from my buddy down in narcotics. He said that a couple months ago an undercover cop saw Telvin dealing crack outside an abandon warehouse up in the Bronx. There's a ton of clubs up there, so we were going to check those out, too. We've got names, so we thought we'd head up there and see if we got lucky, and bring back a guy or two for possession, see if we could get him to talk."

"Why don't Castle and I head up to the warehouse?" Kate offered.

"Cool, thanks. Meet you back at the precinct in three hours?"

"Yeah, that should work, thanks Espo." She pressed the 'end' button and stood up to leave with a smile. "C'mon Castle."

* * *

><p>Kate parked her car in front of the warehouse, glancing down the street. There were a few children walking around, a man crossing the street, and a woman playing her guitar on the corner of the street a few blocks down.<p>

"Castle, I need you to stay right next to me." Kate ordered as she grabbed her gun, her vest, and her badge. "This area can be really rough." She added, slipping on her bullet-proof vest, and Castle copied her actions, securing his in place as well. "And take this too. But please, Castle don't shoot anyone. I don't want to have to explain to Gates why I let you run around in an abandon warehouse with a gun." She requested, pulling her back-up out of the glove compartment.

"Carry the gun, look like a bad ass, but don't shoot. Got it." He mumbled to himself as he followed her through the door to the warehouse. They walked through several hallways, before approaching the main storage room towards the center of the building. The broken windows and skylights offered some light to shine in, but the room was still dim. It was completely empty, except for the occasional piece of garbage lying on the ground.

She felt it before she heard it. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and the barrel of the gun just inches from the back of her head, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up.

"You've been digging." He stated simply in a dull monotone, and then came the audible click of the safety being switched off.


	3. The Beacon

**A/N: **Here's the next chapter! Thanks to all who have read or reviewed! All suggestions as to how I can make the story better are appreciated!

* * *

><p><em>Let me stand by you<em>  
><em>Honor is mine<em>  
><em>Let me stand by you<em>  
><em>Loneliest light, loneliest light, loneliest light<em>

_Burning beacon in the night _  
><em>Can't feel its heat, or see its light<em>  
><em>That single solitary guide<br>__It must get lonely there sometimes_

_The Beacon_, by A Fine Frenzy

* * *

><p>She's been digging? What? What has she been looking into? Telvin's murder? But his body isn't even to the morgue, how could they know? Maybe they were at the crime scene? But killing her seemed pretty drastic considering that she hadn't even started looking yet... and so, she comes up with the only response she can think of.<p>

"You don't want to do this." Her voice is like venom, yet she remains calm.

"We had a deal, and you broke it. Put your gun down." The gunman says calmly from behind her. Kate glances towards Castle, who is looking back at her, horrified. The barrel of a gun is pressed into the back of his neck as well, the holder's finger dancing along the trigger. He tilts his head to the side slightly, asking her what to do. And she nods back. He knows what she means. His gun clatters to the ground, and hers follows. "Put your hands on your head, turn around, and get on your knees." She complies, as does Castle, who is now facing his assailant with a look of dread. Like he knows something.

The man standing in front of her is tall and lean, and wearing all black, including a ski mask. His partner is shorter, yet strong, a similar build to Esposito. He too is dressed in black, and wears a ski mask that hides his face from her.

"It's come to our attention that someone from the 12th Precinct took some files from the Courthouse yesterday, files concerning the murder of Johanna Beckett. And being the lead investigator in her death the past couple of years, we must conclude that it was you." He explains quietly, calmly even. What? She had been doing paper work all day yesterday. It had to have been someone else. Ryan, maybe? Or Esposito? But they would have told her... perhaps Gates? But she hadn't seemed all that concerned... And what's this deal she supposedly made? She remembers no deal. Hell, she hasn't looked at her mother's murder file since her shooting. And then it hits her; slams into her like a ton of bricks. It's the only possibility, really. He's the only person that knows as much about the case as she does. What had he done?

"I don't have any files." She replied calmly, evenly. If she could just convince them, maybe, maybe they could get out of this alive. She just needs the right moment.

Without warning, the gunman in front of Castle grabs him, pulls him to his feet, and has his arms twisted behind his back. His gun is pressed precisely at the point where Castle's jaw meets his neck.

"Tell me what you know, or I'm going to shoot this man right in the neck, and you're gonna watch him bleed out, right here on this ground!" He yells at her, and her mind is spinning. What to say, what to say?

"I told you, I don't have any files! I don't know anything!" She cries. "Please, please! Leave him alone!" She's screaming now, on the brink of hysteria. "I SWEAR, I SWEAR! He doesn't know anything! I don't know anything!" And now, she's past hysteria and going full blown insane. The barrel of the gun is being pressed even farther into his throat; the gunman's finger is tensing on the trigger, ready to deliver the fatal shot.

The man who has been standing in front of her grabs her now, and has the barrel of his gun at her temple. Its cold weight digs into the side of her head.

"WHAT DOES SHE KNOW?" He roars at Castle. She knows what he's doing. He wants Castle to crack, hoping that whatever she learned, she told Castle. But it's Castle that knows everything, not her. She holds the tears back, and pushes her mouth into a firm, tight line. She holds her head high, mustering every ounce of dignity she can. She hopes he'll understand. Understand that she is willing to go down with pride. Understand that she must make her stand. And understand that right now, all she wants is for him to stand with her. Because if he lies, if he says that he doesn't know anything, they will kill her. And they might let him live. And she's willing to die for him. Willing to die for Richard Castle, her friend, her partner, the man she loves. She hopes that her sacrifice will say all the things that she left unsaid, and tell him all he needs to know. And so now, her harsh, firm eyes meet his frightened ones, and she knows that he understands what she wants him to do. He can read her so well, that he knows exactly what her final request will be. And so, naturally, he does the opposite.

"She doesn't know anything." He admits. "I'm the one who pulled the file on Patrick Timothy. I never told her any of it." And now it's her turn to stare at him, horrified. What has he done? She can't let this happen, she can't.

"That's not true! He told me everything! I know all about Patrick Timothy! He's the one who hired my mother's killer!" She's grasping at straws now, and everyone knows it. But she has to try, has to try and find some traction, and stop stumbling. "The file is being processed right now!" But they just ignore her. They can all tell that she's lying.

"Where are the files?" Castle's assailant asks.

"I returned them, but I have copies on a flash drive in my pocket." He explains grimly. A third captor emerges from the shadows, and approaches Rick, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the silver USB stick. The third man is short and plump, not what you would expect of a hit-man.

"Are there more?" Rick hesitates, weighting the options. "We have guys at your apartment right now. Currently, your mother and daughter aren't home, but we can stick around if you need the... encouragement. "

Her mind is racing, trying to think of a way to save them. Trying to think of a way to save him. He never signed up for this, and yet, here he is, stuck right in the middle of it all. She tries to form a coherent thought, but her mind is in a blind panic. No, no, no...

"There's one in my room. Night stand on the left, second drawer. There also one in the picture frame in my study. It's behind the picture of Alexis and I in the Hamptons." His voice cracks a bit when he mentions his daughter, but he keeps his expression in control. She wants to scream at him, explain to him that he doesn't have to do this. No, no, no...

"You better not be lying to us, Mr. Castle."

"I'm not." His word is final, as though he knows that the end has come. The man behind her finally speaks.

"What should we do with her?" They don't even bother asking what to do with him, and she knows why. No, no, no...

"She doesn't know anything. We kill her, we break the deal. He isn't protected, she is." The gunman behind Castle says. Rick nods slightly, he knows what is going on here. He knows about this deal. A deal that protected her, but not him. And he dug anyway. Now he was going to face the repercussions of that. No, no, no... "Put her in one of the old offices."

And that's when she loses it.

"NO! PLEASE, NO!" The man behind her grabs her, yanking her off her feet, similar to what Castle did that night in the hangar. "RICK, RICK! PLEASE! NO!" She sobs uncontrollably, tears blurring her vision. "PLEASE, PLEASE! LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO!" She begs. But they ignore her. She's thrown into one of the offices, and the door is locked tight, but she slams her whole body against it anyways. She's still screaming, still pleading. She runs to the window that allows the resident of the desk to look into the warehouse, and tries desperately to smash it. But it won't break. She tries so hard, but the damned glass won't break. She's screaming at it now, pounding against it, trying to get them to look at her. But they ignore her still, huddled in a group, talking.

And now, the gunman behind Castle is ripping off his vest. That strong source of safety that had saved thousands of lives. But they weren't going to let it save his. It's the most efficent form of torture she can imagine. She's here, forced to watch as they slowly peel away his life.

Castle is kneeling on the floor, refusing to look at her. And then, the short, plump man whips around pulling a gun out of his pocket, facing Rick. He finally looks up at her, meeting her eyes. His look is composed of shame, sorrow, and love. Love for her. She knew he loves her, but she never let him know. And he's going to die never knowing.

She is the last thing he sees before the shot goes off. She watches as his shirt explodes open and crimson flies. He sinks to the ground, hit in his left chest. Her scar explodes in flames, as she feels that familiar pain. She wants to run to him, to comfort him as he did for her that day. She wants to hover over him, stroke his cheek, and whisper that she loves him, give him something to ease his mind as he leaves.

But she's locked in this room.

The tall man that carried her into this office comes to the window with a bottle of paint, spraying the window black, blocking her view. And she knows there's no hope. She sinks to the ground, sobbing. Tears flow quickly, and when she runs out, her sobs are long and dry, coming from deep within her. It replays it in her mind, his shirt ripping open, the blood pooling underneath him. He didn't move, God, he didn't move.

No time passes, she simply lays there, drowning in her tears. She floats in nothingness, trying to block the images, yet welcoming them when they come.

When the door to the office flies open, she doesn't even raise her arms to protect herself. What's the point? But it isn't who she expected. It's not one of them, it's Ryan.

"Beckett!" He calls, his voice mingled with shock, horror, disbelief, and questions. But she ignores him. She needs to see, she needs to know. She gets to her feet, and the crying stops. She pushes past Ryan, past Esposito, and to the center of the warehouse where she last saw him.

But there's nothing there except five handguns and a large, ominous pool of blood.


	4. The End

**A/N:** You guys are amazing! Your reviews have made my day! Here's the next chapter! Chapter five might not be up until Wednesday or Thursday as weekdays are quite busy, but I'll try and have it done by Monday or Tuesday! Also, I made a slight revision due to a plot error, however, it is now fixed. Basically, Castle went into the warehouse wearing a vest, but when he was shot, it was suddenly gone! Oops... So, Castle now went into the warehouse wearing a vest, but it was taken off by his captor, and then he was shot. That's all!

* * *

><p><em>What were all those dreams we shared<br>__Those many years ago?  
><em>_What were all those plans we made now  
><em>_Left beside the road?  
><em>_Behind us in the road_

_More than friends, I always pledged  
><em>_'Cause friends they come and go  
><em>_People change, as does everything  
><em>_I wanted to grow old  
><em>_I just want to grow old_

_The End, _by Pearl Jam

* * *

><p>At first, Kate doesn't know what to do. So she does what she's trained to do: she takes charge.<p>

"Ryan, Esposito!" She calls. They come running towards her. "Search the building! Castle might still be here. My phone's in the car, I'm going to call Gates, CSU, and Lanie. Gates is going to have to do a press conference, and we'll need CSU to search for prints, DNA, anything." Her voice falters. Anything. She needs something, some kind of clue. Something needs to be left behind. She needs to catch these sons of bitches and make them pay for what they did. She is going to fire a round into them, just like they did... She can't think it. It's too terrible.

"Beckett? Kate." She ignores Esposito the first time, but upon hearing her first name glances at him. She can't meet his eyes, she just can't. "Why didn't you show up at the Precinct? We need to know what happened."

"Castle and I came in to search the building. I had him armed just in case, you know how tough these neighborhoods are. We were held at gunpoint, and forced to drop our guns. They... they wanted to know what I knew about my mother's case. These past couple months, Castle's been searching. He got a hold of some important files, and he told them..." Her voice betray her, showing the weakness behind the emotionless facade. She took a deep breath. "He told them I didn't know anything, that it was him who had been looking. They... they locked me in the office. I tried, I tried to get to him. But h-he..." She still couldn't force herself to say it. "Left chest. He didn't move. God, he didn't move." She put her face in her hands, unable to face the world. Unable to face her partners. Because all of this was her fault.

Ryan walked up to her, and before she knew it, she had her arms wrapped around his torso, hugging him and letting the tears flow once again. There was nothing romantic about it. They were siblings mourning the loss of their brother. All of them. And when she pulled away from Ryan, Esposito was right there, offering the same comfort. It was strange, but she had never hugged either of them. Ever. And right about now was when she deserved it the least, yet needed it the most.

"Hey? You gonna be okay?" Ryan asked her sympathetically. She knew he didn't mean long term; none of them would be able to get over the loss of their partner. He was simply asking if she could make it through the next couple hours. And she appreciated it. It gave her control for a few hours, and then, when she was alone, she could show that vulnerability. She could mourn properly.

"Yeah." She whispered with a nod. They went separate ways, Ryan and Esposito searching the building, and Kate walking back towards her car. She cringed when she approached the empty passenger seat, where Rick had sat, alive and well, waving at strangers, just a few hours before. Forcing her eyes away, she reached into the glove compartment, pulling out her phone and dialing the Precinct.

"This is Captain Gates speaking." The captain answered.

"This is Detective Beckett. Castle's been shot. He's gone. I think he's dead."

* * *

><p>The past couple hours had been hell. The boys hadn't found him. Lanie had hesitantly explained to her that it was too difficult to tell if he had been shot and laid there for a while, causing the blood to build up, or if he'd been wounded fatally, and the blood had accumulated quickly. Then, she spent an hour in the interrogation room, reliving the horrors of the warehouse as she explained it all as an official witness. CSU had found prints, but they weren't in the system. The guns left behind offered no help either; all three had been stolen in the past two years. Security footage found a black van without a license plate leaving the scene, but the killers still wore their ski masks, so there was no way to ID them.<p>

Not that she was leading the case. It had been given to Ryan and Esposito. Gates had thought they were too close to it, but they had stormed into her office. After a few minutes of yelling, she, looking quite rattled, reluctantly gave it to them. She too had argued with Gates, who had agreed to post-pone the press conference for an hour so that Kate could have time to inform Castle's family of his death herself. The Captain had tolerated the yelling well, better than expected. Perhaps she understood the pain of watching your partner die, or perhaps she was just sick of fighting. Either way, she was handling the writer's death graciously, while still ensuring order. And Kate was thankful.

Rick hadn't been declared dead, but Kate refused to allow herself to hope. It would destroy her. She saw where he was shot, and she knew why. These people behind her mother's murder, they had already proved just how willing they were to kill in order to keep their secret safe. And why should a best-selling author that knew too much be any different?

So, now, Kate was grabbing her coat and keys, preparing to do what she hated most about her job.

"Beckett, you don't have to do this. Send an officer." Ryan suggested as she turned to leave. She just looked at him, a sad smile on her lips.

"Ryan, if it were you who had been killed, would you want us sending an officer to tell Jenny?" She asked. He just looked away from her, nodding slowly. He understood. "See you guys tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Kate hesitated as she stood outside the apartment door. This was it. This would change everything. She would no longer be Kate; she would be Detective Beckett, the one that came to tell them of Rick's death. And they would hate her for it. This place that had once seemed so welcoming was now a place full of painful memories.<p>

She knocked on the wooden door, quick and firm. She is not here as a friend, she is here as a detective. She is not here as a friend, she is here as a detective. She is not here as a friend she is here as a detective. But then, the door opens, and Martha is smiling at here, and she doesn't know why she's here. She owes it to him, she understands that much. But would he want her to approach this in a professional or family-like manner?

"Kate, darling! How are you?" Martha is radiating joy and exuberance, and Kate knows that in a few minutes, she will have to crush that. "Where's Richard?"

"That's what I came here to talk to you about." She glances into the apartment, noticing Alexis, who is sitting on the couch, numerous textbooks scattered around her, watching them. "Is there a place where we could talk alone?" Martha looks somewhat taken aback at this request, a suspecting look gathering in her eyes.

"Yes, yes. Why don't we go into his office? I'm sure he won't mind." She gestures towards the office, the happiness gone, replaced by caution. Kate follows her into his office, just across the room, feeling Alexis's eyes trained on her, trying to understand what is going on. But Kate won't meet her eyes. She can't. If she does, she knows she will lose every bit of control she has managed to hold on to. And she can't let that control slip from her, not yet.

Martha closes the door to the office. They are alone. And now she must tell her.

"Have a seat, Kate." Kate listens, sitting down on the soft sofa that she spent many nights sitting on, working a case with Castle, brainstorming, or on occasion, just doing paperwork after he "made" (finding the phone book, then ordering from a Thai delivery service) dinner. "Is everything all right?"

"No, Martha. Castle... he..." She rests her face in her hands, needing a minute to gather her thoughts. "Rick was shot. Left chest."

"Is he alive? Where is he? What happened?" Martha demands, the panic in her voice rising.

"Martha, he... I-I don't know. We went into this empty warehouse for a case. We were wearing our vests, and I had him armed, just in case. I mean... the area can be rough, but it wasn't anything dangerous. Really, he was armed just for the look, so that if we ran into any trouble, people would leave him alone. But as soon as we walked in there, we were taken hostage, and forced to drop our weapons. Rick... he, he must have been working my mother's case these past couple months without telling me, because he had a file they didn't want anyone to know about. He told them I didn't know anything, and I told them I knew everything, but I was lying, and they knew. There was some deal protecting me, but not him, so they locked me in an office. There was a window, I tried to break it, I tried to get to him, but it wouldn't break!" Her voice slips, betraying her emotion. "They shot him. I was far away, and to his right, but I saw. I saw. I tried to get to him. I did. But I couldn't, and by the time backup came they were all gone. They left nothing behind except their handguns."

Martha is crying now, and Kate doesn't know what to do. She always knows how to handle the families of the victims, but this time... this time... she already knows them. This is completely different. And she has no idea what they want her to do.

"And Kate, in your experience, what are the chances..." Martha trails off, not wanting to say those final words. Because acknowledging that he may be alive means admitting that he might be dead.

"He hasn't been confirmed dead, but Martha..." Kate just looks at the woman, her face grim. And Martha understands. The older of the two sits up.

"I have to tell Alexis." She whispers. Her face is blank, emotionless. She turns to leave the study, and Kate follows. She must be there for this.

Alexis is waiting right outside the door. As soon as it opens, she demanding answers, trying to seem calm, but fear is etched into her voice.

"Gram, what's going on?"

"Alexis-" Martha tries to explain, but the young girl already knows.

"No... no!" She's backing away, trying to deny what she knows is true.

It's a classic example of the Kübler-Ross model, or more commonly known as the Five Stages of Grief. First is denial, second is anger, then comes compromising, next is depression, and finally, there's acceptance. That's pretty much all that Kate took away from her High School psychology class. That, and the abnormal psychology unit. The writer's daughter is following the model perfectly.

"But he-he was just here this morning! Everything was fine! There must be a misunderstanding!" Her tears are flowing fast a furious now, and her voice is weak and shattering apart. "You!" She whips around to face Kate, her voice venomous. "You were supposed to watch him! You were supposed to have his back! He trusted you!" She screams at Kate, lunging for her. Martha grabs Alexis from behind, holding her back.

"Alexis!"

"You were supposed to make sure nothing happened to him!" Her shout fades slowly, and then she turns, wrapping her arms around her grandmother, sobbing.

"I know." Kate choked out.

Yes, Alexis is definitely following the Five Stages of Greif model by the book. And she is right, too. Kate was supposed to make sure nothing happened to him. She failed Alexis. She failed Martha. She had failed Rick. Not wanting to break down now, right in front of his family when she was supposed to be the detective, the strong one, the one that knew what do, she pulled her card out of her pocket. They already had her phone number, but if she could just detach herself, make this seem like any old case, she might be able to make it out to her car.

"I'm going to leave my card here." She stated calmly. "You can call me if you remember something related to the case or if you just need to talk. Ryan and Esposito will stop by tomorrow for your statements."

Martha nods at her over Alexis's head, letting her know that she heard.

It's too much.

Kate can feel the pieces of the calm demeanor slipping, one by one. They're scattering behind her as she turns and runs towards the door. She steps into a hallway full of people and their camaras. The camaras are flashing, and they're all shouting her name.

Kate! Ms. Beckett! Kate! Kate! Beckett! Is it true! Kate! Do you have a comment? What happened! Kate? Beckett! Katherine! Is writer Richard Castle really dead? We heard he was killed in a warehouse? What's your comment! Kate? Nikki! Nikki Heat! How do you feel about you're creator's death? That's her breaking point.

"NO!" She screams at the reporters. "I am NOT Nikki. I am Katherine Beckett, and Richard Castle-" Her voice falters, and several tears escape. "Richard Castle was my partner. He was a real person with a family and friends! He died to save my life! He's not a way for you to make money in your damn tabloids! Get out of my way!" She charges through the crowd, knocking over cameras and reporters, pushing her way through. She presses the button for the elevator to open, but it's swarming with even more news anchors, and she can't stand the flashes in her face.

So she runs. She turns and pushes towards the window, throws it open, and starts running down the fire escape. She runs away from his family, away from reporters, and away from the memories.

* * *

><p>Kate is ready to go to sleep. She's in a t-shirt and sweatpants, she's eaten dinner, she's brushed her teeth, and her alarm is set. But she can't go to sleep. That means closing her eyes. And every time she does, she relives it. Him admitting everything, them pulling her away, his vest being torn off, him meeting her eyes. The blood. The blood that exploded across his clean blue shirt, staining it bright red.<p>

She wants to talk to him so much, to hear his laugh just one more time. God, she'd give anything. Why him? Why not her? She'd been ready to do it, ready to give up her life for him, but he had turned the tables. He'd made the choice.

She reaches over to her night stand, grabbing her phone. She unlocks the screen, and speed dials number four. He picks up.

"Hello?"

"Rick!" He's alive! She can't believe it! But she saw, she saw him...

"Hey!"

"Where are you? Castle, what's going on?" She cries into the phone. She's pissed now. It's just like him to pull this kind of joke on-

"Did ya fall for it? I bet you did. This is Richard Castle. Leave a message!" She'd forgotten about his damn voice mail. She fell for it every damn time. He was still gone, nothing had changed. It wasn't some sick prank of his, it was reality. She throws the phone as hard as she can at her book shelf. It hits a couple of books, knocking them to the floor. She doesn't move, just stares at the phone. After a few minutes, Kate rubs her face with her hands and walks over to it. She picks it up tenderly, and hits the 'end' button. But the book that the phone was sitting on captures her attention. It's her copy of Heat Wave. She opens the cover, tracing her hands over his signature, which rests on the page that holds the dedication.

To the Extraordinary KB, and all my friends at the 12th.

With a sad smile, she carries the book over to her favorite chair and starts to read.


	5. Sick of Dreaming

**A/N:** This chapter is going to be really short (there's not a ton I need to say, but it's a necessary transition). Next chapter should be up Tuesday. You guys are the best! Don't forget to review! ;)

* * *

><p><em>Nothing is the same now... <em>  
><em>Nothing is the same now.<em>

_It's Time... _  
><em>To stand up for my rights. <em>  
><em>In the middle of a life <em>  
><em>I fear is out of time...<em>

_'Cause I've been Dreaming _  
><em>Kicking, Screaming, Hopeless and Alone <em>  
><em>Am I breathing, no more sleeping... <em>  
><em>Weightless as a stone.<em>

_Sick of Dreaming, _by Alexander Cardinale

* * *

><p>Kate wakes to the sound of her alarm clock going off. It's all the way in her bedroom, but ever since she was shot she's been hypersensitive to everything. Her hearing and eyesight is sharper, clearer, allowing her to notice things faster than before.<p>

She had fallen asleep with her head leaning against the back of her chair, her index finger still propping her copy of Heat Wave open to page 176. Her phone rests on the table next to her, displaying that it is 6:30 am. She gets up, walks into her bedroom, and turns the alarm clock off. As she walks back towards the kitchen, she thinks about what she'll need to get done on the Telvin case. She tries to remember what they did yesterday for the case.

It hits her hard, knocking her breath away. Rick. The gunmen. The shooting. Tears start once again, and she just stands there, trying to figure out what to do. He brain in scattered. It feels like it's falling to pieces. She's trying so hard to figure out what to do, but she can't, she just can't. Everything either seems too happy or to sad, too aggressive or too desperate.

Kate takes a deep breath, just like her psychologist taught her. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. It soothes her, and she can almost think clearly. She needs to take the day off. There's no way she can work the Telvin case. The only thing she'll be working on is avenging her mother, her captain, and her mother. She grabs her phone from the table behind her, dialing the precinct.

"Captain Gates speaking." Comes the strict, by-the-book captain's response.

"It's Detective Beckett. I... I need to take the day off. And Captain? I'm requesting to be removed from the Telvin case. I just... I-I can't." She confesses.

"Understandable, Detective. Will you be in at all today?" Is that sympathy in "Iron" Gates voice? She did not think the woman had such feelings.

"I'm not sure... but, I think so. Just to help the boys."

"All right. Take care, Kate." And the Captain hangs up, and Kate is left staring at the phone in shock. 'Take care, Kate'? That was probably the nicest thing Gates had ever said to her. And she had called her Kate. Not Detective, or Beckett, but Kate.

Her thoughts are interrupted by another phone call coming in. Alexis Castle. She answers immediately.

"Alexis?"

"Detective Beckett, I think I might know something that will help with my father's case."

* * *

><p>It's only twenty minutes later, and Kate is standing in Rick's office. She had changed into jeans and a plain white t-shirt quickly, and abused her power, using the sirens on her car to get to Alexis quickly. As soon as she knocked on the door, it had been flung open by Alexis, and Kate had been dragged into the office.<p>

"Two weeks ago, Dad had someone come and redo the flooring in his office. He said that he was just sick of the old wood, and wanted something new. Which wasn't a big deal, but then, the day after, I saw him digging around under the couch. I must have startled him, because he freaked out, and started yelling at me for not knocking. He apologized later, and I figured he must have had a bad day. I never pieced any of it together until Gram told me that he was ki-that he had some files that they wanted, and I figured maybe, somehow, he had them stored under to floorboards."

Kate has to hand it to Alexis, it's a brilliant theory. And it sounds just like Rick.

"Okay, Alexis. I'll look, but I need you to leave." The redhead tried to protest, but Kate raised a hand to stop her. She could tell that the girl was on the verge of tears, and so she grabbed her shoulders, and looked her in the eyes to hold her attention. "Listen Alexis. I made a promise to your father that I would watch out for you if anything ever happened to him. And right now, I need to send you away, because knowing about this case is dangerous. These people are not afraid to kill, Alexis, and I am not willing to have cross-hairs trained on your back. Do you understand?"

Alexis nods in response, and leaves quietly. Kate can tell just by the way she is breathing that as soon as that door closes, the tears will start again.

Once the door is shut, she immediately moves to the couch, lying on the floor to see underneath it. Everything looks normal, so she runs her hand over the planks of wood, feeling for any uneven points or cracks. Towards the center of the floor that is covered by the couch, she feels a slightly wider crack between two floor boards. She reaches into her pocket a grabs her pocket knife, using it to pry the floor boards open. They release easily, as they are attached by hinges on the opposite side. Underneath is a metal safe, and towards the edge of it is a lock. She has to find the key...

She searches the office for ten minutes, playing "If I Were Richard Castle Where Would I Hide a Key", which turns out to be harder than it seems. She's looked everywhere, behind picture frames, in his desk, on the book shelves, but there's nothing. She knows that he wants her to find this, so it would be something that connects them. She also knows that it is in his office, would want to be in control of its location at all times. She tries to think of all the things that link her and Rick together in this room, and there's a lot. But she's already looked in all those places.

Except one.

She runs back to the book shelf. She counts two rows down, and twelve books over, before pulling out a book that he bought at a charity event, The New York Happenings Book. It holds thousands of dollars' worth of coupons, and she flips to the page that she knows by heart, page 73, which holds the coupons to her favorite Thai restaurant. It's the one that they always order from when they're working late at the precinct.

And she finds it. The key is sitting there, taped to the page. She rips it loose, and races back to the safe. She carefully places it in the lock, and twists the key. With a click the safe opens. It is shallow, yet wide, and contains three notebooks, multiple flies, and an envelope. Her name is scribbled across it, clearly written in Castle's handwriting.

Ignoring everything else, she grabs the envelope, opens it, and begins to read.


	6. All We Are

**A/N: **Please note, I am not a cop nor detective. My knowledge on law and criminal justace is pretty close to nothing. So, while I am trying my hardest to make this realistic and based on fact, but my knowledge only runs as deep as what is available on the internet. Please, correct me if I'm wrong! Also, I'm supposed to be studying for my Human Bio test, so if I fail, let it be on your conscience. But I wanted to let you guys read this tonight, because you have made my week so much better just by reviewing! Here it is, a day early: All We Are!

* * *

><p><em>I walked a minute in your shoes, they never would've fit<em>  
><em>I figured there's nothing to lose,<em>  
><em>I need to get some perspective on these words before I write them down<em>  
><em>You're an island and my ship has run aground<em>  
><em>Lord knows I'll fail you time and again,<em>  
><em>But you and me we're alright<em>

_We won't say our goodbyes you know its better that way_  
><em>We won't break, we won't die<em>  
><em>It's just a moment of change<em>  
><em>All we are, all we are, is everything that's right<em>  
><em>All we need all we need, a lover's alibi<em>

_All We Are, _by OneRepublic

* * *

><p><em>Dearest Kate,<em>

_If you are reading this letter, it means that I am dead, be that dead to you, dead to the world, or really, truly dead. I don't know how it happened, but I am hoping you were not there, I am hoping that it was merciful, and furthermore, I am hoping that you respect a dead man's wishes. I know that some of them may be excruciatingly difficult, and others may seem meaningless, but please remember, they all mean something enormous to me. Of course, I have no real way of knowing if you will do what I say, after all, you never listened to me while I was alive, but please, please, know that just the thought of having some influence over what happens after I am gone is a tremendous comfort._

_I remember one spring day back when I was in school. It was about seventh grade, and I was supposed to make a speech to the class about the death penalty. Yes, Kate, I did choose the subject. Even then you could say I was fascinated by death, but really, my passion was writing and crime solving. When someone was killed, that threw morals and motivation into the mix, which furthered my interest. And so, I stood up in the front of the room to make my speech to the class, and I failed, Kate. You should have heard it, you would have been laughing so hard. In my defense, I had left my notes in the car... which really isn't proving my point like it should... WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY is that I had no notes to read off of, and so I blanked. But I really needed to get a good grade on this project. So, refusing to go down in flames, I turned to the teacher with as much dignity as I could muster, and requested to be able to take my essay, and not read off it, but use it to help guide me along in place of my forgotten notes. To my surprise, she let me. Looking back, my essay blew the others away. There was no competition, there really wasn't. I don't wish to gloat, but writing has always been easier for me than speaking. That is why I must write to you now, because I never could have the courage nor means to say these next words to your face._

_I love you. So much. I have for a while, I think. After I thought you had been shot in the diner with Ragland… that's sort of when it all started to fall apart. I wanted to tell you, but you were with Josh. You were happy with Josh. Who was I to ruin that? So I did what was so hard, but at the same time, so easy: I let you be. It worked, because if you were with Josh, I could convince myself that I didn't really love you. But then, when you pushed me away after I tried to convince you to stop after McAllister's death, that's when I knew I was in love with you, Katherine Beckett. I wanted to tell you, I really did. But after I pulled you from the hangar, I thought you would never want to speak to me again. Ever. Who could blame you? I had just ensured that your captain, mentor, and friend would die. So, when you called a meeting with Esposito and Ryan, and swore us to secrecy, I thought it was the last time I would see you. But somehow, you got me into the funeral. More so, you made me part of the process itself, a honor usually reserved for those who have served._

_You should know, your eulogy was beautiful._

_"Captain Montgomery once said to me that for us, there is no victory. There are only battles. And in the end, the best we can hope for is to find a place to make your stand." You said. "And if you're very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you." And then, when you glanced over your shoulder at me, I knew I was forgiven. For I had stood with your Captain. Not with you, but with Roy. And as much as it hurt, by siding with Roy, I was showing my never-ending dedication to you. My dedication to your life, your mothers case, and to Roy, whom you trusted above all others. It was more than I had allowed myself to hope for._

_I saw the flash of the light reflecting off the scope. I should have known. Should have warned you sooner. Should have been the one to take that bullet, not you. I heard the shot, realized it wasn't over, and I ran for you. I tried to get to you. I tried. But it wasn't enough. I heard your quiet gasp as the bullet hit, but it was too late, I was already pushing you to the ground. I had been able to save you from this fate before, but glancing down your uniform, I knew I had failed. Your once-white glove was stained with crimson. I knew the blood was pooling somewhere under your shirt, but I didn't know where. You were limp, lying in the grass, staring at me. Your expression still haunts me, to this day. I begged for you to stay, not to leave me, and I swear, you nodded just a little bit. Your acknowledgement was what I needed, and I let those words that had been held back for so long break free._

_"Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate." I whispered. Your eyes held onto mine a moment longer, the corners of your mouth turning upwards so slightly, as if you were glad to know the truth. A single tear slid down your cheek, whether that was from knowing the truth, or the pain of a bullet ripping through your flesh I didn't, a still don't, know. And then you were gone. Your body, which had gone rigid from the pain, was once again limp, your eyes closed._

_I cried, Kate. I have not cried in such a long time. I watched you die. I watched the person I love die. But somehow, they brought you back. Those doctors and your will-power brought you back to me. I thought I'd lost you forever, but I hadn't. I remember exactly what the doctor said._

_"Mr. Beckett?" he asked. Your dad jumped up immediately. We all did. There are a lot of people out there that love you. Jim, Lanie, Ryan, Esposito, even my mother and daughter. And me. "Your daughter is out of surgery." He continued. "During the surgery she experienced cardiac arrest. Now, we were able to get her heart beating again on its own, but we're going to need to watch her very closely. Once the nurses get her settled we'll bring you back to her." Those were the best words I could have heard. You scared the hell out of me, Kate. But then I saw you, alive and well, and as hard as those three months of waiting were, they were tolerable. You telling me that you didn't remember the shooting, that you didn't remember my confession, was tolerable because you were alive. And when you came back, I was mad, yes, but you were alive! And that was so exhilarating that I could forgive you._

_And now, the hard part. As you must know by now, I've been working your mother's case. Below, I have written down a summary of the information I have, just in case something happens to my notebooks or the files I have. But, before you read any further, please, please listen to what I have to say._

_As humans, we believe that we can beat death. But we are wrong. Death is simply merciful, sometimes allowing us to win a particular battle, but when it comes to the end, Death always chooses. And while Death is a terrible, loathsome thing, it is also a gift, a reward for the life that we have served on this earth. Death ends our misery and pain, but sparks those same feelings in others, simply transferring the weight of the burden from the deceased's shoulders to the shoulders of those still living. But Death is also merciful to us all. It gives us a chance to learn, to grow. Sometimes, Death gives us the wakeup call we need. Other times, Death provides us information on a medical condition. But perhaps Death's most merciful act is bringing us together. Death rattles us in a way that nothing else can, and it can convince a large group of people to work together. It is my hope that you learn from my end. Do not make the mistakes that I did. I would ask, no, beg you to stop working this case, as I have before, but that was not successful, and so instead I ask you to proceed with caution. Wait a while after my death to start working on this again. Cover your tracks carefully, and involve as few people as you can. DO NOT LET THIS CASE STEAL YOUR FUTURE AWAY. I beg you, if you get any threats, just stop. Stop trying to find the truth, and be at ease with the knowledge that what goes around always comes back around. Stay safe, please. Please, respect a dead man's wishes, no matter how intrusive and controlling they may seem._

_And now, I place faith in you, and I am trusting that you will follow my request. You see (this is all written in the first notebook), three months after your shooting, during your first case back on the job, I got a phone call from a friend of Montgomery's. He had some files that could really hurt some big people if they got out, and he was using them as leverage. If you stopped digging, you were safe. If you kept digging, they'd kill you. Kate, I'd already lost you, and I was not going to let that happen again. So, I do not ask for your forgiveness, but rather, your understanding. I beg you to see why I had to push you away, and take over. Please, please just understand why I did what I did._

_On Monday, I met a man (said to call him John) at the Checker Board Diner up in the Bronx. He explained to me that though he didn't know who had the fire started in the warehouse with the bank documents, he did know that it wasn't an accident. This man was the same one who had called me months ago. I asked questions, but he never gave me any direct answers. However, this didn't matter, because I already knew most of them._

_Since the Fire Investigator's background check didn't raise any red flags, I had my buddy check out the staff at the fire station, and one person popped: Timothy Pattum. Started working as a firefighter at twenty-two years old. And get this, he started three weeks before your mother was murdered, AND he resigned three months after the fire broke out in the warehouse. Plus, I had my guy check, the real Timothy Pattum died in a car accident three years before that. Because fire investigators must do their own documentation of the crime scene, it would have been easy for Pattum to tamper with the evidence, thus leading Fire Investigator Holstead to BELIVE that it was a one in a million type of fire. Problem is, guy's a ghost. Nobody has seen Pattum in nearly twelve years; the fingerprints in the system belong to the real Pattum, not our guy. No hits on facial recognition either. So, I decided to look further into Holstead's cases for any that were unsolved and occurred during the time Pattum worked there, and I found one._

_Elizabeth Dale's, an Assistant District Attorney, body was found in a burning building a week before your mother was killed. Fire Investigator Holstead noted no signs of arson, and again blamed the fire on faulty wiring because of the buildings old age. The ME on the case noted signs of a struggle and also commented on possible bruising to the flesh around the back of her skull, indicating that Dale may have been unconscious at the time of her death, which could mean that this was murder. Due to the charred state of the body, the ME recommended that it be sent to a friend of his in Boston, who knew more about burnt bodies than he did, but the suggestion was ignored because the detective working the case found a typed and signed suicide note on her work desk, and ruled it a suicide. Now, Kate, you and I both can see the problems in this case. What a coincidence that a fire due to faulty wiring breaks out right when a woman is in the building. The only theory that supports what the report says is if she saw the fire, then ran into the burning building, hoping to kill herself. We both know how easy it would have been for Pattum to once again manipulate the evidence. We also know that a case like that should not be ruled a suicide, especially with signs of a struggle, and a typed suicide note. The killer could have typed the paper, which she signed, hoping that if she cooperated, she would be allowed to live. After he had her signature, he hit her with something on the back of her head, and then set the building on fire, killing her. But this theory left me with a question: Why? Why kill her? She had no previous connections to drugs, prostitution, assault, murder, abuse, nor any of our known participants in the case. Hell, the girl didn't even have a speeding ticket. But, I think I've figured it out. Dale had been seeing a therapist after her mother died of natural causes. I was able to call the therapist, Dr. James Hoffman, and ask for information about her sessions, and he told me some very interesting information. It turns out, Dale told him that she had "been pressured into tampering with paperwork regarding hiring a firefighter that shouldn't have been hired after she walked in on a conversation between a superior college and a person of political power", and that now she believed that person was threatening her to keep her quiet. After that, she refused to say any more. The next day, she came to him rather beat up, and explained that she had gone to the police, claiming to have been assaulted by the very person that had her falsify her paperwork. Two days later, she was dead. I believe she was killed to keep her quiet about messing with some paperwork regarding the hiring of Timothy Pattum._

_However, this information was never released to the public. All that was ever told was that Dale was found burnt to death in a building, and no foul play was suspected. Then, after her death was wrongly ruled a suicide, nobody could find the case files, nor the detective that worked the case. THAT is not a coincidence. This is where things start to get confusing. I just learned all the details of Dale's death today, then, I received a call from John, met him, and I am now back home, writing this letter to you. Guess where the files were? At the court house where that document clerk that was murdered like your mother, Scott Murray, worked. Another buddy got me in, and I searched for hours. Then, I finally found it. Guess what name it was under? Patrick Timothy. It's brilliant, really. For those who know the truth, easily accessible. For those who don't, invisible. Such a generic, boring name, one would never think of it twice. But that's not all. Guess what file was with it? The report on the fire where Dale's body was found. Like I suspected, the suicide report was vague, but gave me the information I needed, including the therapist's statement that Dale said she was being blackmailed. I then found Dr. Hoffman's phone number, asking for details._

_From the information I have, I believe that the file that John has is Dale's assault claim, and the file that I have is the one that your mother requested, but Scott Murray could not find it. I would guess that it is safe to believe that your mother did not know about Timothy Pattum, but she did make the connection between Bulgotti and Elizabeth Dale's murder. You see, at the prison where Bulgotti was being kept at the time, half the men in there had their case paperwork done by Dale. So, her death was a big deal. But, Bulgotti remembered something else. When he saw her photo, he recognized her as an undercover officer that had been working with the mafia. A buddy of his beat her up pretty bad when she didn't have the money to pay him after a game of poker. He broke one of her arms, multiple ribs, and shattered her knee, forcing her to retire from the police force. She then became the Assistant District Attorney, and worked there until her death. Your mother must have deemed it an improbable coincidence, requested the case file, and was killed. Whether there is more depth to that event, or if it was just a coincidence, I do not know. From here, you are own your own, and it is your job to figure that out._

_I would assume that you will soon be receiving a call from John, and you may want to ask him if he has the assault claim, however, I doubt he will answer. It is crucial that you find out who Dale might have walked in on if you wish to solve this crime. I have a feeling, and as you know, I am rarely wrong, that after that, the pieces will fall into place rather nicely._

_And that, dear Kate, is all I know, I promise you. It feels so good to finally be able to tell you the truth, though I wish I could have told you to your face. I conclude our journey as a crime-solving team (And what a beautiful journey it has been) with a few last thoughts: 1. Remember the promise you made to me? Keep an eye on Alexis, and remind her that I love her. 2. Stay safe. I hope to see you again someday, but I can wait. Right now, you have your whole life ahead of you. 3. Find these sons of bitches, and make them pay. After all, you are the extraordinary KB._

_And last, but not least: Remember, I love you, Kate._

_Always,_  
><em>Rick<em>


	7. Into the Blue

A/N: You guys are just amazing! Your reviews have kept me excited about this story, and I've been writing whenever I can! I've got the rest of the story outlined, and it's all figured out, now I just need to write it! Just so you guys know, I'm planning on 13 Chapters, which is way longer than this story was supposed to be! All of your amazing reviews have given me the encouragement to make this as detailed and complex as I can, so here's a HUGE thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this! Now, enough of my rambling, here's the next chapter, should have Chapter 8 up Friday!

* * *

><p><em>If only if only I had the luxury of retrospect.<em>  
><em>Sounds like you're speaking some sort of foreign dialect<em>  
><em>If only something precious as time had a price<em>  
><em>Instead of endlessly taking its toll on my soul.<em>

_Oh so many if onlys running through my mind._  
><em>What ifs and storybook endings time after time.<em>  
><em>If only if only you coulda been mine<em>  
><em>I'd take you.<em>

_Into the blue_  
><em>And faded world of my daydreams.<em>  
><em>I feel I'm falling deeper everyday<em>  
><em>Melting away down a dark and endless abyss.<em>  
><em>I'm grasping at straws and I'm chasing the wind<em>  
><em>As I fall on my face over and over again.<em>

_Into the Blue_, by Sara Jackson-Holmon

* * *

><p>It was all there. Everything. He loved her, he'd nearly solved her mother's murder, and he had proof. Kate tenderly folded the letter back up, and tucked it in her jean pocket, determined to never part from it. Next, she leaned back under the couch, retrieving an envelope which holds several documents and reports on Coonan's victims. Next, she paged through a binder filled with summaries of all Dale's cases. After that came a folder filled with notes written by an anonymous Fire Investigator who Castle had brought the details of the warehouse fire too. There was another folder filled with graphs and charts that several different experts had created for Rick that gave information about the forensics of the case. Below that was three notebooks, all filled with his notes, guesses, and inferences. And finally, at the bottom of the safe was the file. The one that had started all of this. She carefully picked it up, turning it over in her hands.<p>

This file was the reason why her mother was dead.

She dropped it in disgust, and carelessly shoved it back into the safe. Not able to bear it, she started putting everything back, but as she turned to reach a binder that sat behind her, she saw a framed picture sitting on his desk.

She remembered that day. It was the morning after Castle had purchased The Old Haunt. The night before had been spent there with Roy, Lanie, the boys, herself, and Castle after solving the previous owner's murder case. That particular morning, she was busy doing paperwork, when he had run into the precinct and jumped into his chair that sat next to her desk.

"Breathe, Castle. What is it?" She asked, curious, but not trying to seem so.

"Who's got the paperwork that deems him official owner of The Old Haunt? This guy!" He explained eagerly, pulling a certificate out of his pocket. In order to get out of paperwork, Ryan and Esposito casually migrated over to congratulate Castle. During that time, Ryan had snapped a photo of her and Castle. Rick's face was elated, a wide smile was flashed at the camera, and he held up the certificate proudly. She had a broad smile resting on her lips, and was staring at him. Looking at it now, there was no other way for her to describe it. It was a look of complete adoration. That had been one of her favorite cases, mostly because it was one of Castle's favorite cases. He'd been so excited about The Old Haunt...

Her eyes went from the picture of better times to the couch, where she knew that file was hidden.

This file was the reason why her partner, Richard Castle, was dead, too.

But she owed it to him. She owed it to her partner to figure this out. She had to look at this file, she had to. She already knew what was in it, but until she saw it, she didn't really know. Opening the file and staring it down meant dedicating herself to this; it meant really knowing the truth. But walking away, never really looking at it meant giving up. But on what? On whom? Him? Her mother? Herself? And he had wanted her to solve this... but he... he hadn't wanted her to die, either. What was more important to him?

"What do you want me to do, Rick?" She whispered, wishing he could tell her.

But he couldn't answer her anymore; she knew that. And so, she carefully picked up every single file sitting around her and placed it all back in the safe. She made sure it was locked, made sure the floor boards were in place, and put the key back. She took a deep breath, and opened the door to the living room, leaving his office.

Alexis was waiting for her. She needed answers, Kate understood, but right now, Kate couldn't give them to her.

"Did you find anything?" Alexis asked, desperate.

"Maybe." Kate stared ahead blankly. "I need to go sort some things out." She looked Alexis in the eye. "But, Alexis, I promise you, we'll figure this thing out. 'Kay?"

The redhead nodded in response. With that, Kate whispered a good-bye and left.

* * *

><p>Kate sits in the thick, cushioned armchair. Her feet were curled up underneath her, her arms wrapped around her legs, trying her hardest to keep it together. Across from her sits her therapist, Dr. Burke, a quiet man with dark skin and a deep, soothing voice.<p>

"Kate, I'm glad you came to talk to me. I'm sorry about your loss. Do you want to tell me about it?" He asks her. But she doesn't want to talk. She relives those moments every single second; she doesn't want to have to speak them out loud as well. But Rick would want her to do this, to talk it out, and so, she speaks.

"It was a normal day." She starts strong, but grows weaker and weaker. "A normal case, nothing we couldn't handle. But then, when we went to this warehouse for the case, and we were ambushed. There were three of them. They thought I knew something new about my mother's case, but I hadn't touched it in months. They tried to get me to talk by using Rick, but I didn't know what they wanted me to say. Then, they tried to break Rick, and he admitted. He told them everything that he knew, and that I didn't know anything. They took me away, and they... they... I tried to get to him, I really did. I tried so hard. But I couldn't... I couldn't... before they, before h-he..." She shakes her head, unable to finish.

"Before they what?" Burke prompts. She just shakes her head. "Kate, you need to come to terms with what happened."

"They... the short one... he took out a gun and, and he s-shot... he-" She tries to say it so hard, but it's like her tongue can't form the words.

"Kate." Burke's voice is assertive, almost bossy. "You need to tell me what happened."

"I-I can't." She admits weakly. "I can't."

"You can, and you must! What happened?" He's nearly shouting at her now, and she's starting to get angry. This is supposed to be her time to talk to someone, not be forced to tell him how she's to blame for Rick's death. She starts to realize that statement's faults, when he speaks again. "Kate! Tell me, now!"

"No... no..." She crying now, leaning away from him, from this monster. She can't. She won't say it, she refuses.

"Kate-" His voice is stern, a warning. She doesn't know what will come next, but she's fed up with it. Fed up with him, with the situation, with being alone, with this case, with her life.

"DAMN IT, THEY SHOT HIM!" She screams at him, jumping out of her chair and pacing the room like a mad-man. "The short, fat one pulled out a gun and shot Rick right in the chest! I watched, right from the office window! I saw how his shirt was ripped open by the bullet, how the blood stained his shirt, how he fell to the ground. I watched him as he lied there and didn't move! I watched it all." She collapses back into her chair, and covers her face, trying to hide the weakness from the therapist. "I watched him die."

From deep within her, a sob escapes, and others follow. Soon, she's blind from the tears and her chest aches from the shallow breaths. Her scar is burning. She knows how he felt; she knows the feeling of a bullet ripping through your flesh. But she knows the feeling of being comforted as you die, and he does not. And he never will.

"Kate." Burke starts. His voice is calm again, the soothing, deep tone that she is used to. "Are you aware of The Five Stages of Grief?" She nods in response, so she continues. "Well, right now, you are so deep in denial that you are unable to even say what happened. You need to face that in order to move on."

"Why him? I'd give anything to... if only I could..." She mumbles, mostly to herself, but the man sitting across from her hears.

"If only you could what?"

"I don't know. Do something. If only solving this case could bring him back... but... I-..." She doesn't know how to finish.

"But you know it won't." Burke offers. She nods.

"Castle's gone. I know that. I-" She takes a shaky breath. "I need to figure out what to do about it."

"Well, Kate, what do you think the options are?" He asks softly. He's not demanding answers anymore; he's back to asking questions. She's made enough progress to satisfy him for now, but she needs to understand more in order to satisfy herself. She needs a plan.

"Rick... Rick left me new information about my mother's murder. If I use that, I think I could find out who killed her, and that means I will know who killed him, too. But he wanted me to live. If I start digging again, my life is no longer protected. And Rick died to save me. Throwing that away would be wasting his life... his death... and also my life, and my death. I just- I can't figure out which is more important to him." She explains. "And if I decide not to keep looking, I'm letting down my mom, Roy, and him. I'm letting myself down. But Roy and Castle died to save me... so how... what... what do they want?"

"You said Mr. Castle left you a letter with information about your mother's murder?"

"Yes."

"Why do you think he did this?"

"I don't know." That's a lie, and she knows it. He's told her twice now, and he deserves better. "Because he loves me. He told me in the letter. He still doesn't- didn't know that I heard him when I was shot. I think he wants me to solve it because he knows it's important to me."

"Why does he think it's important to you?" Burke asks, a small, satisfied smile starting to appear on his face. She takes it as encouragement. She must be doing something right.

"Because I've let it drive me. I've let it stand between us." It's hard for her to admit the next fact, but she knows it's time to finally acknowledge it. "I've let it rule my life."

"And do you think Richard knew you would try to find the person behind all of this if he gave you that information?"

"Yes." She replied honestly.

"So, what do you think he wants you to do?" He asks again, a hopeful look on his face.

It takes Kate a while to figure out how to answer. She knows what he wants, but what does he really want her to do?

"I think..." She stops and thinks for a while longer. "I think he wants me to have a long and full life. But he understands that I can only do that if I put this thing to rest. So, he would want me to proceed with caution, but figure it out." She glances up at Dr. Burke, looking for some hint that she is on the right track. He is smiling and nodding at her, as though she has finally seen the light. And she kind of has. She gets it now. It's a compromise between them, one that they never managed when he was alive, and she regrets it.

"I think you just answered your own question, Kate. My question is, what are you going to do?"

"I'm... I'm going to put this thing to rest." She starts weak, but ends strong. She knows what she must do now. "I need to go. Thank you."

She runs out of the office, leaving the smiling, satisfied therapist sitting behind her.

* * *

><p>It took longer to get there than she thought it would, but it doesn't matter. She has a feeling he will know when she gets there. They probably will, too, but she doubts they'll kill her. It's just standard stuff, tracking the victim's whereabouts.<p>

After slamming the door of the Taxi cab shut, she starts marching down the block. The Checker Board Diner sits on the corner of two streets. Its faded paint and tattered awning give it a run-down look, but she isn't here for the food, or the restaurant itself.

She enters the diner carefully, scanning the entire room. There is a family eating in the corner booth, a few men lined up at the bar, and a few other occupants sitting in small groups or alone. She's just in time for an early lunch, nothing suspicious. Noting the sign to her right that tells customers to seat themselves, she grabs a newspaper from the table by the door and heads over towards a booth to her right.

The waitress comes almost immediately, and Kate quickly orders coffee, a chicken sandwich, and the soup of the day.

Then, she sits and waits for a man named John who holds all the answer


	8. Riding Elevators

**A/N: **Ok, so, I am super thankful for all of the amazing people who have read this story! You guys are the best! I apologize for the delay in updating, I just haven't had the time and I've been plagued by mild writer's block! I wasn't quite sure how to lay all the pieces in place. Plus, it's been a really rough couple of days, and I just haven't been motivated to do anything much. Anyways, here's Riding Elevators! Kinda short, but I'll make up for it and post the next chapter asap!

* * *

><p><em>Everyone seems to have somewhere to go<em>  
><em>I dream of going with them but I don't<em>  
><em>I'm looking down always on every floor<em>  
><em>But I never really find what I'm looking for<em>  
><em>But I keep looking for you<em>

_Doors are opening, doors are closing,_  
><em>People come and go,<em>  
><em>But I'm still riding elevators<em>

_Never here or there,_  
><em>On the ground or in the air<em>  
><em>People come and go<em>  
><em>But I'm still riding elevators<em>

_If I get off and I could get lost_  
><em>Or better, if you were there,<em>  
><em>I wouldn't have to keep riding elevators<em>

_Doors are opening, doors are closing,_  
><em>People come and go,<em>  
><em>But I'm still riding elevators<em>

_Riding Elevators, _by Mads Langer

* * *

><p>John came faster than Kate thought he would. She waited for no more than thirty minutes before he was standing in front of her table.<p>

John appeared to be in his fifties. A receding hairline and a wrinkled face supported this idea. His hazel eyes met hers with a grim intensity, and his mouth formed a tight, angry line. She immediately noted the slight bulge on the right side of his grey coat, a handgun. The man glanced around the restaurant once, before slowly settling into the booth across from the detective.

"You've heard?" She whispers.

"Yes." He voice is calm and sympathetic. The fact that this man, who knew all of the answers yet kept them to himself, then felt sorry for her causes her to ball her hands into fists and her vision to blur with anger. Why had he dragged Castle into this? Why couldn't he have just met with her instead? "It's all over the news. Richard Castle, famous crime novelist, abducted and presumed dead. It's a shame. I liked the man."

"Yeah. I did too." Kate replies, her tone an icy calm.

"I know you must be very angry with me, Detective, but what Mr. Castle did was foolish. I warned him not to look into your mother's case."

"Oh yeah? Well you should have warned him sooner. Rick already knew a hell of a lot more than he let on." She's proud. Her voice is cold, lethal, and refuses to betray her true emotions.

"Richard already knew?" John asks, shocked. His eyes are wide, and he staring at her in disbelief. The surprise lasts for just a moment, and his face is back to its steady, confident look. "But that's impossible. I made sure to cover my bases just in case he decided to look around."

"Oh yeah? Then how did Rick know about Timothy Pattum, Elizabeth Dale, and the 'person of political power' that was blackmailing her?" Kate pushes. She is no longer the broken cop that lost her partner; she is Katherine Beckett, the extraordinary detective that is determined to find her partner's killers. And right now, she's no longer requesting answers, she's demanding them in full interrogation mode.

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation-" He begins.

"No!" She cuts him off. "Why would you have Castle push me away from the case for my safety, yet let him run around trying to play cop and solve it himself? Is my life important to your business? Your reputation? Am I something that needs to be kept safe, while Rick was merely a pawn, easily disposed of?"

"You listen to me!" He threatens. "I did everything I could to make sure Mr. Castle was blocked from the case as well! If one of my guys failed, I will see to it that he is dealt with. But I would never put an innocent citizen at risk for my business!" He's appalled, staring at her in disgust.

"Then why is my safety so important to you?" The question floats in the air for a while, before it starts to settle onto John's shoulders. Kate can see his shoulders sagging in defeat, and his breath is heavy.

"I owed Roy Montgomery my life."

"Why?" She counters quickly, determined to get all of the answers she needs. John meets her eyes, gauging how serious she is. Whatever he sees, it must persuade him, because his answer is quiet, yet sure.

"I used to be involved in some... bad things." He admits, guilt masking his features. "When Roy first became a cop, he... arranged to pay for my life, though he knew I was working... working as an underboss with the Mafia."

"Who tried to kill you?" Kate asks, entirely serious.

"My brother, who was the boss." He admits, looking haunted. Kate is about to ask why, but he predicts her question and continues. "As you must know, Roy Montgomery was working with two other officers to kidnap Mafia bosses for ransom. Shortly after the death of Bob Armand, there was one final kidnapping, and that was me. They took me to a warehouse, and expected ransom money from my brother and boss. When my brother turned up, he pulled out a gun and started firing. He was about to kill me because he thought I'd talked, but Roy was able to stop him. He explained that another death related to the kidnapping of bosses and underbosses was the last thing that any of us wanted. And so, my brother demanded all of the ransom money, which Roy convinced the other two cops to do. That was the wakeup call I needed. I left the Mafia, using several different documents and photos as leverage in order to keep myself and my family safe. Roy and I, we became fast and unlikely friends. It's such a cop cliché, I know, the ex-mafia underboss and the police Captain, but it worked for us. And so, seven years later, when Johanna Beckett was murdered, I had to protect him."

"Protect him from who?" She's anxious. Twelve years she's been waiting for this answer, and now, she finally has someone who might just give it to her. That is, if he doesn't take her partner hostage, get shot by a sniper, or give up his life for her. So many people had died for this, and now, here was a man that was not only alive, but unsure.

"I can't tell you that."

"You OWE me that!" She slams her fist on the table, earning her stares from others in the diner. "You owe it to Elizabeth Dale, Scott Murray, Ragland, McAllister, Roy, my mom and her friends! You owe it to my partner, Rick. You owe it to ME. I was shot by a sniper over this case! Did Roy tell you THAT?"

"Detective, listen. I-"

"I want the truth. The whole truth. You need to tell me everything."

"I can't do that." He leaned back, and crossed his arms, a tone of finality lingering in his voice.

"You're a coward." She gets up to leave, but her grabs her arms and yanks her back down anxiously.

"You have no idea what this is."

"The hell I don't! John, I've been trying to solve this thing for twelve years! I've lost everything! Everything! All witnesses, my mom, my captain, my partner!" Her bad cop facade is cracking, letting John peak at the emotion that lies below. "I need the truth. I need this guy locked up."

He just stares at her for a while. His eyes meet hers, before searching all around her face. She just looks back, refusing to blink, refusing to look away. Refusing to give up. Finally, he looks down. She has broken him. She knows it from the slight slump of his shoulders and his small sigh that follows.

"If I tell you, you'll need to have guys ready to get him by nine tonight, otherwise he'll know. Tell only those that you trust most deeply. Arrange for a SWAT team to storm the building. Get in and get out as soon as you can. Do you understand?"

"Yes." She nods slightly, her stomach twisting in anticipation.

"Ms. Beckett, you realize that as soon as I tell you who'd behind this, there is a good chance you will be dead before you can even get to the precinct?"

"I know." Her tone is serious and conveys the depth of her understanding. "I've seen how serious these people are, and I accepted the fact that this case could kill her long ago." Besides, once she knows the truth, she has nothing to live for anymore. Did she really just think that? It takes her by surprise, how blunt she is, but it's true.

"Then what would you like to know?" He asks simply, as if he were asking what her favorite kind of ice cream was.

"Who is behind this whole thing?" She demands quickly, speaking so fast that her words are slurred. But she needs this answer before anything can happen. If she's going to die today, she's going to die knowing who killed her mother. Who killed Castle.

"That would be... the man responsible is..." John takes a deep breath. "My brother, Gabriel Moretti."

Kate stares at him.

"Gabriel Moretti?" The name is foreign, strange on her tongue. She takes a sip of her coffee, trying to erase the taste of the name. "The mafia boss?"

"Yes." John sighed. "Look, after Gabe took the ransom money, he knew he had to keep the cops in line. If, they exposed him, he'd lose everything. So, he took the ransom money and built his construction company. That way, he had an easy way to make money in case he needed a large amount of cash to... take care of anyone that knew too much."

"And my mom knew too much." Kate stated quietly.

"Yes, she did. You see, she took up Bulgotti's case five weeks before she died, and Gabe was instantly aware of it. He was currently trying to get someone into the Fire Department to cover up an arson that was unrelated to the case. Gabe had been threatening the mayor at the time, Roger Calock, to get Pattum into the Fire Department, but Calock wasn't able to by himself. He attempted to get one of Elizabeth Dale's colleagues to let Pattum in, that was the conversation Ms. Dale walked in on four weeks before your mother's murder. David Wellsworth, Ms. Dale's colleague, was unable to get Pattum in, and because Dale already knew too much, Gabe started blackmailing her, forcing her to pull some strings and get Pattum in. Pattum was working with the FDNY for two weeks before your mother was killed. And, as I assume you know, a week later, Dale was dead. Her death was covered up by Pattum and the case's detective, and neither have been seen since."

"Castle thought that the paperwork that you have is Dale's Assault Claim. Is that true?" Kate demanded. It was strange, she had her answers, but she felt no better. Everyone was still gone, and she still had to catch the guy. And then, when she did, what was she supposed to do? Her mom was gone, as was her captain and partner. She had nothing to motivate her. No reason for her existence. The one thing that she could have gained after putting this thing to rest was a relationship with Castle, but that would never be. The thought was gut-wrenching. She had never felt so lost before.

"Yes. It was Gabe himself that beat up Dale. It says so on her assault claim." Kate looked down, nodding thoughtfully.

"And how do you know all this?" She looks up at him, meeting his eyes.

"I have many friends still in the mafia. They do not want to see me dead, and so, they risk their lives to supply information to me about this case, giving me leverage and a notice if I need to... arrange something with my brother." He explains. His icy face is back. He's cold, calm, and back in control.

"And, is Castle really dead?" She knows what the answer will be, but she can't help but ask.

"Ms. Beckett..." He trails of, his voice full of sorrow. She just nods in acknowledgement.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, John." Kate jumps up abruptly. A new anger is coursing through her veins. It's heavy, like lead, and she feels disjointed. Her mind is spinning out of control, and yet, what she needs to do, her plan, is crystal clear. She needs to go, now, if she wants to catch this killer. She only has a little while, that is, as long as she isn't dead the moment she steps outside of the building. But really, she feels the tears burning in her eyes. And there is no way she is going to cry in front of John Moretti.

"Be safe, Ms. Beckett." He replies sadly, as though he believes it to be impossible, as she leaves the booth.

She pauses briefly in front of the door. Her scar throbs painfully, and she can hear the shooting replaying in her mind. The shot, being tackled to the ground, and Castle, begging. Stay with me. Don't leave me, OK? Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate. But the image quickly shifts, and it's no longer her looking up at Castle, but rather, she's looking down at him. This time, he's the one bleeding out on the grass. It's flowing out slowly, she can hear his stuttered breathing, smell the blood...

Kate shoves the door open and steps outside, into the sun.


	9. Remains of You

**A/N:** I apologize for the delay in updating everyone! I just needed a bit of a break from this story, so I wrote Scars, an Esplanie two-shot. But that is all published and done so back to Marchin On! Oh, and then, of course, I learned how essential it is to save frequently, so that when your computer freezes, you don't have to retype EVERYTHING! Then, about 2/3 of the way through retyping, I got sick, so that involved a lot of sleeping and sitting on the couch wishing I was dead. Also, you guys can expect another delay in updating (I'm sorry!) because this next chapter is going to be really tough for me to write (I'll let you try and figure out what that might mean ;) *cue evil snicker*) plus I've been really busy lately. Good-but time consuming- events are occurring in my life! Anyways, expect a delay. But, to make up for it, this is a long chapter, and the next one will be, too!

**ALSO**: I would like to remind everyone that I have no experience in law enforcement, so all of what I am writing is as realistic as I can make it. If I have made errors and you wish to correct me, please PM me or put it in your review! Thanks!

**One more thing before you read:** I want to thank every single one of you that has reviewed, subscribed, or favorited this story! You see, I have my FanFiction email and a separate email for everyday life so that I don't have a million of emails from FanFiction. Last night, I checked my FanFiction email for the first time since I started writing this, and I was overwhelmed by the number of people that had subscribed and/or favorited this story! You guys are the best!

* * *

><p><em>Constellation a silver chandelier<em>  
><em>Hanging overhead like frozen tears<em>  
><em>Realization that I must now let go<em>  
><em>And I'm still spinning all alone<em>

_The stars are falling like rain_  
><em>Crashing all around my head tonight<em>  
><em>And a dark sky is all that remains of you<em>

_Imagination tempts me with a smile_  
><em>Draws me in then leaves me running wild<em>  
><em>No sedation to swallow with my pride<em>  
><em>An avalanche is breaking loose and I can't hide<em>

_The stars are falling like rain_  
><em>Crashing all around my head tonight<em>  
><em>And a dark sky is all that remains of you<em>

_Twilight left me blind_  
><em>And now all that ever shined is gone with you<em>

_Remains of You, _by Mads Langer

* * *

><p>Kate walks down the street confidently. If they're going to kill her, she's going to die without fear. After all, ignorance is bliss.<p>

She quickly hails a cab over and jumps into the passenger seat.

"I need you to take me to the 12th Precinct, please. I'll pay you double if you can get me there in twenty minutes." She adds, quickly, hoping to motivate the driver to get her there as fast as possible.

And it works. He pulls away from the curb with a lead foot, nearly taking out another cab, and starts down the road. With her ride back to the precinct arranged, Kate pulls out her phone and scrolls through her contacts until she comes to the number she wanted: Martha's cell phone. She taps the send button, and anxiously drums her fingers on the car door as the ring tone sounds.

"C'mon..." She mutters into the phone.

But Martha doesn't answer. Her stomach clenches with dread. She isn't that concerned about her own safety, but Castle's family? She needs to keep them safe, no matter the cost. Now starting to panic, she goes back to her contacts page and starts scrolling through it once again. Kate's fingers are trembling, causing her to press on the wrong contact, then back to the main page, start a picture message to Lanie, and then scroll pass the contact that she wanted.

"Damn phone!" She growls, earning a stare from the taxi cab driver, before he slammed on the brakes, nearly running into the black SUV in front of them. Finally finding the number of the person she wanted, she once again taps the send button.

Alexis doesn't answer either.

Tears of panic are forming in her eyes. This can't be happening. Surely there's a logical explanation as to why neither are answer their phones. She needs officers at their apartment now. She needs to get her back-up gun from the glove compartment of her car, then she has to-

Her phone rings. She answers immediately, icy cold dread crawling through her veins.

"Beckett." She answers, trying to sound calmer than she is. And she's pretty sure she has succeeded. Only those that really knew her would know there were tears in her eyes.

"Hey, Kate? Sorry I missed your call. Where are you? Did you find anything?" The tears of fear are now tears of relief.

"Alexis?"

"Yeah? Kate, is something wrong?" The redhead starts to sound worried, unsure of the Detective's question.

"Yes. Where's Martha?" Kate demands quickly. She is no longer family friend. Instead, she is once again a Detective.

"In the shower, why? What's happened?" Panic is rising in the redhead's voice.

"Nothing. But, Alexis, I need you to listen very closely. Is there a room in your house without windows?"

"Yeah, the upstairs bathroom. Why?" The teenager's answer is short and again followed by a question.

"Take Martha. Lock the front door and all the windows, then lock yourselves in the bathroom. Do you understand?" Her voice is urgent now.

"Kate, what's going on!" Kate can hear the girl on the other end of the phone trying not to cry.

"I'll explain later! Lock yourself in the bathroom and don't come out until I tell you it's safe. I'll have officers at your building to protect you as soon as I can." She can hear Martha calling to her granddaughter in the background. The girl still seems to be frozen. "Now, Alexis!"

"Gram, stay in the upstairs bathroom! I'll be there in a minute!" Kate is proud of Alexis. She's no longer a frightened girl, but a strong woman taking control of the situation to keep her family safe. And she's fast, too. A minute later, Kate hears the bathroom door lock, and Martha's worried questions.

"Alexis?" Kate asks softly.

"Yeah?" The girl is still fighting to be strong.

"I need to hang up the phone, now. Don't open the door for ANYONE." She stresses 'anyone'. If there's one thing she's learned from this case, it's that you never really know who to trust.

"OK. Kate?" Alexis's voice is timid, as though she really isn't sure what to say.

"Yes?"

"Stay safe." And then, she's gone. Kate stares at the phone in shock. She's touched. After all she's been though, Alexis Castle has wished for her to stay safe? Castle's right, he does have the best child in the world.

Kate drops her phone in her lap, and then leans back against the headrest of her seat, rubbing her face in her hands. There's no backing out now, and what will be, will have to be.

* * *

><p>The cabbie is good. The ride takes just eighteen minutes. Kate throws the money into his arms, receiving a glare in return.<p>

She trips over the curb when she gets out of the Taxi, then trips over her feet again as she weaves through the crowd towards the 12th precinct. In her attempt to regain her footing, she stumbles into a man standing in front of the building door.

"Sorry!" She cries, terror infused in her voice. These streets are dangerous. She has to get to the precinct; she has to catch Castle's killer.

The man must have heard, because he turns to look at her. Stubble is scattered along a chiseled jaw, and emerald eyes twinkle. Dark brown hair is cut short into a buzz cut, with equally dark, long eyelashes framing his eyes. He's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Kate isn't wearing heels, just her favorite moccasins, so they stand at about the same height. The stranger is broad shouldered and well-muscled.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asks. His deep voice is concerned. "You look like you've been to hell and back."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just in a hurry." She explains. "I've got a case to work on." She stops speaking abruptly. She cannot say anything about this case to anyone.

"You're a cop?" The smile is still there; however, his tone is now more intense.

"Yes. I'm a detective." She explains, somewhat annoyed now. Who is this man? "And I'm in a hurry. So, please, excuse me." She walks around him, towards the precinct, but he grabs her arm and twists her around to face him. Somewhat frightened, she tries lean away from him, but he holds her arm even tighter, keeping her face close to his. Too close.

"I need you to get me into the precinct. I have to talk to Captain Victoria Gates."

"Why?" She counters.

"I can't tell you that."

"Then I can't help you." Boldly, he pulls away from him, and continues walking towards the precinct.

"Detective!" She turns to face the man. "If you don't let me in, I'm just going to have to go jay walking. Which, of course, means you'll need to give me a ticket. And that means I need to have an ID on me, which I don't, so you will have to arrest me. I'm afraid that it's your duty. And that will, of course, take a considerable amount of time." He gives her a mischievous grin. She's torn. She needs to get into that building, but she doesn't want to make a scene, either. Besides, sitting around arresting some guy, then reading him his rights takes time. Enough time for a gunman to get set up in one of the building across the street and kill her.

"All right. C'mon." She marches into the precinct, with him walking directly behind her. She catches the elevator just as another detective is heading up to homicide, and walks in, stranger off the street in tow.

She should be nervous, she knows it. She hasn't searched this man, nor does she know him. It could be his job to kill her, or it could be his job just to watch her, to gauge what she knows. Or, he really could be a random citizen that needs to talk to the Captain. After all, he hadn't tripped the alarms that indicated the presence of a fire arm that rests at the front entrance. And really, he doesn't strike her as a member of the mafia, but this case has surprised her before.

She reaches towards her gun, just for comfort, when she remembers she doesn't have it. Her gun is at her house, and her spare is in the glove compartment of her car, which is also at her apartment. Gates hates when she does that. She'll have to borrow Esposito's spare. She does have her badge, but that has proven to be of little use against the type of person she was dealing with. They aren't afraid of cops.

The elevator bell dings, and the doors open. She sees Ryan and Esposito sitting at their desks, sorting through stacks of paperwork. Detectives are either on the phone, talking to others, or rearranging their own murder boards.

It looks like a normal day, but it's not, because Castle will never walk through these elevator doors again.

"There are chairs right there." She points to the three chairs line up facing the elevator. "Don't move. I need to speak with Gates, first." The leaves him there, alone, and walks to the Captains office. The door is closed, but unlocked. Kate doesn't bother to knock. Instead, she just flings the door open and invites herself into the office.

Captain Victoria Gates is sitting at her desk, talking on the phone. When Kate walks in, she looks up angrily, motioning with her hand for Kate to leave. But Kate doesn't.

Instead, she slams the door behind her, storms up to the desk, and slaps the cradle of the phone, abruptly ending the Captain's phone call.

"Detective Beckett!" Gates stares at her, appalled. "What were you thinking!" Gates shouts. Kate doesn't care about being fired; she has a killer to catch.

"Captain-" But Gates cuts her off.

"Beckett, who's that?" She's pointing at the man from the street, her eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell me he was here?"

"Because-" Kate's interrupted again.

"Let him in, now!"

"But, Captain, I-" Kate needs Gates to understand. If she doesn't tell her now, her only chance of finding Castle's killers is gone, and she will be dead. But before she is able to talk any further, the man lets himself into the office, and Kate is forced into silence. She cannot say anything about this case in front of a stranger.

"Detective Beckett, you are dismissed." Kate glares at the Captain. She's not going to lose this battle. She's about to scream a string of sentences at Gates that would definitely get her fired when the man speaks.

"You're Katherine Beckett?" The man from the street sounds shocked.

"Yes." She answers quickly, not bothering to look at him. "Captain-"

"GO, NOW!" Gates shouts, in a tone reserved only for those of utmost importance.

"Actually, she's the one I came here to see." The dark-haired man explains as he steps between them, hoping to break up the fight.

"Lewis, are you sure this-" The Captain starts, ignoring Kate's presence.

"Yes, Captain." His answer is short yet confident.

"Fine, Lewis. Lock the door. And both of you, sit down." The anger is gone, replaced by an intensity that Kate has never seen in the Captain. Gates is glancing nervously around the room, a distracted look on her face. She ignores the Captain's request, instead leaning against the wall opposite of where the Captain is sitting.

"Sir, what's going on?" She asks, wishing now more than ever that she had her gun. The Captain attempts to start speaking, but the man from the street cuts her off.

"I think it might be best if I explain this, Sir." Gates nods to signal her agreement, and he holds out his hand for Kate to shake. "My name's Brian Lewis. I'm working with the CIA."

Kate hesitantly reaches out to shake his hand. Lewis tries to hold onto her hand longer, but she pulls away quickly.

"What does this have to do with me?" She asks, her tone business-like.

"Currently, I am working with a team of agents to arrest a man named Gabriel Moretti. We-"

"The mafia boss?" Kate's surprised voice rings through the room. Nobody moves. Nobody says anything. They all stare at each other with icy, emotionless masks on their faces.

"How do you know that?" He asks, his tone darker now. He stares at her suspiciously.

"I-" She sighs, reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, and pulls out her phone. Her Recent Calls List is still displayed on her phone, and she remembers Alexis. "Captain, I need squad cars at Castle's place immediately!"

"Why? Beckett, what is going on?" Gates demands.

"Sir, please, I'll explain later, but you need to get someone there right away!"

"Not until you give me a reasonable cause!"

"Sir, I promise I will, just get someone-"

"Beckett I am sorry about Castle, but we have rules we need to-"

"I have witness protection officers watching the building right now. They will get Mr. Castle's family out of the apartment and to somewhere safe." This time it's Lewis that has spoken. He's holding his phone in his hand, typing into it quickly. "The rest of my team will make sure they are taken care of."

Kate breathes a sigh of relief.

"I still expect you to explain yourself, Detective." Gates demands, trying to hold onto the control that was lost as soon as Brian entered the office. Clearly he has power over her, but to what extent, Kate does not know. However, she does know the importance of making them both understand the case. Kate nods, scrolling through her phone until she reaches the recordings page. She plays the one dated to today.

Her conversation with John is being replayed for Gates and Lewis to hear. The sound is very clear, and for the first time, she's extremely glad she invested in her iPhone. She had started the recording as soon she saw John walk through the door, so the entire conversation can be played back to the other two in the room. It's the proof she needs to finish this thing.

The first part of the conversation is difficult to listen to. The recording makes her realize how broken she sounded to John. When she gets to the part about Montgomery, she cringes a bit. She hadn't wanted anyone to know, but if this the only way of getting Moretti, she's willing to do it. And somehow, she thinks Roy would agree. She only hopes the others will forgive her. At the end of the recording, Brain and Gates look up at her, shocked. She just looks back at them grimly.

"Is that reasonable cause, sir?" She challenges, pushing her luck a bit. But the Captain just nods, her eyes wide with shock.

"Do Ryan and Esposito know about this?" Gates asks. Kate shakes her head, hoping to protect the two from the wrath that she knows will come later.

"They know about the warehouse fire, but nothing else. The rest was between Castle and I." She turns to look at Brian. He's still staring at the phone, nodding thoughtfully. When he speaks, his tone is authoritative.

"With this recording and the evidence my team has collected I think we have enough to get Moretti." He explains. "I have a guy working on the inside of Moretti's office, so he should be able to get us in. I'm going to get a SWAT team together. Call the writer's kid and tell her to come out when she hears one of the witness protection officers shout 'Rainier'! Get your vest and gun, and call the other two Detectives working the case. Meet me on the ground floor in ten. We storm the building in a half-hour, Detective!" He explains urgently, before he dials his phone and leaves the office.

Kate follows him out of the office, and into the bullpen, leaving a stunned Gates sitting in her office. Ryan and Esposito greet her instantly. They seem to want to talk, but instead, she walks past them and sits herself down at her desk and fumbles through her drawers for her extra vest.

"What's going on, Beckett?" Ryan asks, anxiously.

"We meet Brian on the ground floor in ten. Get your gun and vest." She offers no further explanation, but the two don't need one. Instead, the two walk quickly back to their own desks, pulling their spare vests out of the bottom drawer. It's one of the things Kate loves about her team. Unlike Gates, they don't need hours of explanations. They all shared a bond, a complex and strong trust. If someone ordered the others around without providing any information as to why, they all knew that it was for a reason.

Kate looks back down at her phone, which is still clutched in her hand. She's about to open her contacts page, but suddenly, Alexis's caller ID flashes on the screen, and Kate answers before her phone has time to ring.

"Alexis?" She asks urgently.

"Kate!" The girl's voice is thick with panic, and she can hear the tears falling down her cheeks. "There's people at the bathroom door! I hear them! They were at the front door, shouting, but I didn't let them in! They crushed the front door, and now they're trying to knock down the bathroom door! They keep shouting! I don't know what they're trying to say!" She tries to continue, but a particularly loud crash echoes out, and Alexis screams.

"ALEXIS!" Kate shouts into the phone. "Are they shouting Rainier?"

"Yeah." The girl manages to choke out.

"It's okay, it's the witness protection officers, okay? You can let them in." Kate tries her best to keep her voice calm and soothing.

"Kate-" Alexis starts, her voice increasing in pitch.

"Trust me, Alexis. It's just the officers! Let them in!"

But before Alexis can reply, Kate hears the door being ripped off its hinges, and both of the woman hiding in the bathroom scream. Shouts of "DON'T MOVE!" and "LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!" echo through the small bathroom. She can hear the phone being taken from Alexis's hands, and a low, gruff voice answers.

"Who is this?"

"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD." She states calmly.

"Detective, I need you to give the phone to a Brain Lewis." Kate looks up to search for him, but she finds him standing right in front of her. Reluctantly, she hands to phone over to him.

"Yes?" He answers. "Okay, good... Yes, we leave soon... No, no... Okay. Wait! Give the phone back to the young red-headed girl." Brain hands the phone back to Kate. "My team will take care of them. Will you please tell her not to worry, and to do everything they say?" Kate nods in agreement, and takes the phone from him.

"Kate?" The redhead's voice is quiet.

"Alexis, it's me. Everything's okay. These people are going to protect you, all right? I need you to do everything they say, okay?" She can hear Alexis swallow her tears.

"Okay."

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" Kate asks.

"Okay." The girl hangs the phone up, and Kate presses the end button before carefully sliding her phone back into her jean pocket. Ryan and Esposito walk to her desk, wearing their vests.

"Ready, Detective?" Lewis asks. Kate grabs her bulletproof vest, and takes the spare gun from Esposito that he has offered her. She nods.

"Ready."

* * *

><p>Kate's palms are sweating and her hands are trembling. Her stomach is permanently tied in a knot, and she feels like she just might vomit onto the van's floor. She shudders. Ryan and Espo are sitting in the back seat of the van on either side of her. Both of them inch away, trying to give her more space. On a normal day, they probably would have bickered for hours, trying to determine who had to sit in the middle, but not today. Today, Kate had climbed into the middle seat without saying a word. She shudders again, and the driver of the vehicle glances back at her, his face filled with concern for the floor of his van. He is tall, slim, dark haired, and unfamiliar. He hasn't said a word. Lewis is sitting next to him in the passenger seat, staring solemnly out the window. What he's thinking about, Kate doesn't know. Perhaps his family? His wife and children? Or maybe he's just preparing for the task at hand, like she should be.<p>

But she just can't concentrate.

With a sigh, Kate hides her face in her hands, trying to compose herself. This is it. It's now or never. Either she catches the guy that killed so many, or she will never hear of him again, as he will be across the globe resting on a sandy beach. Anger floods through her, causing her to shudder yet again. A hand is placed on her shoulder, Esposito's hand.

"You sure you can handle this?" His voice is hesitant, and for good reason.

"I'm fine." She snaps as she pulls her face from her hands and sits up straight again.

"Beckett-" It's Ryan this time, attempting to insert his own opinion.

"Guys, I can do this." She insists. Her voice is stronger this time, but gentler. She knows the boys have the best intentions, but she needs to let them know where she stands. "I _need_ this."

The car ride is silent until they pull into a parking garage below the office building.

"Alright, Detectives. We need to get this done quickly, quietly, and without casualties." Lewis barks. He throws his car door open. Ryan and Esposito do the same, with Kate exiting the van behind Esposito. The two SWAT vans are just pulling in now, and the previously silent parking garage is now filled with a quiet preparations. A black SUV pulls into the garage, and four men step out of the car. Like Kate, they are in street clothes, armed only with a handgun and their own bulletproof vests. Once everyone is armed and has their protective equipment secured, Brain reminds everyone of the plan.

"OK, everyone! We need to get this done as smoothly as possible! Team one, Bremer will take you to the lobby! No one comes in, no one leaves. Team two, you will split up. Jakobitz will take half of you to the parking garage and Kirk will take the rest to the fire escape! Team three, you will be assigned to all of the other exits of the building. You guys know where all those are, Newcomb?" An older man of medium build, who Kate assumes in Newcomb, nods. "Ok. I will take team four and the three detectives up to the office, which is on the twenty-third floor. Let's go!"

Upon his command, the group breaks up into five different groups. Kate, Ryan, Esposito, and three other SWAT officers follow Lewis towards the door of the parking garage. He waits, allowing team one to go first and secure the lobby. Lewis had explained on the way to the office building. Team one would head in and get everyone in the lobby on the ground. They would then proceed to lock all doors exiting the building and the doors to the stairs. Her review of the plan is interrupted by the call of "WE'RE CLEAR!" over Brain's radio. He waves the team forward, and two of the SWAT officers charge forward, taking the lead, with Brian following closely behind. Ryan and Esposito hold back, letting Kate follow behind him. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed, and she glances over her shoulder at them, and offers what she hopes they understand is a thankful look.

They weave through several different hallways and turns before coming to the elevators. The man in front presses the 'up' button, and immediately, the elevator door opens with the chime of the bell. They enter quietly in a single file line.

The ride up to the twenty-third floor is unbearably long. Kate fingers her gun. Her palms are no longer sweating, and the involuntary shuddering has disappeared, replaced by the need to kill. She wants to send a bullet right through Moretti's forehead. No, she wants him to die slowly. She'd shoot him in the knee first, before sending another bullet into his shoulder. Once he was begging for mercy, she'd shoot him in the stomach. Finally, she'd deliver a final blow: a single shot to the left chest, just grazing his heart, as he had done to her. She would stand hovering over him, and watch him bleed out. She would smile, maybe even laugh! She'd-

Her mind freezes when she realizes what she had just hoped for. What kind of monster was she turning into? One that enjoyed watching a man bleed to death in front of her? She cannot be that. She cannot lose herself. Rick wouldn't want it that way. She pushes the rage away, and replaces it with determination.

And so, when the doors to the twenty-third floor open, she is completely in control of her emotions. She follows Lewis through the hallways and into an office room. They run past a secretary that is shrieking in objection, and towards the office door, marked 'Gabriel Moretti, President'. She takes a deep breath as the men leading the group kick the door open.

Morretti looks almost identical to his brother, though perhaps a bit older. His face is wrinkled, and his hairline is receding. But despite all the terrible things she know he has done, he looks utterly shocked and somewhat terrified. He stands behind his mahogany desk. Behind him, a large window makes up a majority of the wall, and shows of New York City and Central Park.

"GET YOU HANDS UP!" Lewis shouts. Moretti does as he says, and slowly, he raises both of his hands above his head. Kate's gun in trained on the man that killed her mother, the man that killed Rick. It would be so easy to pull the trigger and just end it all. But she doesn't. "Detective Beckett?" Lewis requests her attention, and her wide eyes meet his. She smiles a bit, despite the tense situation. Lewis had some nerve, pulling Moretti's attention to one of his failed murders. "Would you please secure Mr. Moretti?"

Kate looks back to the mob boss standing across the room from her. His eyes have darkened, and he gives her a venomous glare. She could return the look, but instead, she keeps the small smile plastered to her lips and steps forward. This seems to infuriate Moretti even more, and though she hadn't thought it possible, his eyes darken even more and his glare intensifies.

Kate struts forward and reaches into her back pocket for her pair of police cuffs. She is behind Moretti now, and though she knows she is at her most vulnerable standing in front of the large window that sits behind his desk, she is fearless. She feels invincible. That doesn't stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks, nor does it cause her to hide her smile. Instead, with bold determination she reaches up, grabs his arms, and tightens her cuffs around his wrists a little harder than necessary.

"Gabriel Moretti, you are under arrest for the murder of Richard Castle." She announces to the world.

It's all Kate has ever wanted, but now all she can think about is how much she has lost.


	10. Set Fire to the Third Bar

**A/N: ** I had originally planned to have this next chapter in the story, but then decided against it. Well, now, after some consideration, I have decided to bring this chapter back! I'm a bit nervous because I'm not sure if you guys will like it... I mean, I like it and I feel it's important to the story... but maybe you guys won't like it? Or maybe you will like the chapter, but not think it's necessary to the story? Or maybe I just need to shut up, let you review, and find out? I'll do that, just let me explain first.

When I decided to write this story, I wanted to focus on Kate, and create a journey of sorts for her. I wanted to write a story where she really has to question her feelings for Castle, and how they've changed as the story progresses. And in order to maintain those initial values, I have decided to put this chapter back in the story. NEXT chapter is the one that will be difficult for me to write, and so that one may take some more time. Also, I had originally planned to have 13 chapters, but that number may increase 1-3 chapters because as I predicted, this story as strayed away from the first storyline and pretty much gone rogue!

Thanks for all the reviews!

* * *

><p><em>I hang my coat up in the first bar<em>  
><em>There is no peace that I've found so far<em>  
><em>The laughter penetrates my silence<em>  
><em>As drunken men find flaws in science<em>

_Their words mostly noises_  
><em>Ghosts with just voices<em>  
><em>Your words in my memory<em>  
><em>Are like music to me<em>

_I'm miles from where you are,_  
><em>I lay down on the cold ground<em>  
><em>I, I pray that something picks me up<em>  
><em>And sets me down in your warm arms<em>

_Set Fire to the Third Bar_, by Snow Patrol (feat. Martha Wainwright)

* * *

><p>As soon as the words are out of Kate's mouth, all hell breaks loose.<p>

She hears the faint sound of gunshots echoing in the lobby, and suddenly, she is thrown backwards, her face burning. She grasps at her face with her hands, trying to comprehend what has happened. When she pulls her hand away, it is covered in blood, and she can feel it trickling down over her lips and she can taste it in her mouth. There a burning over the bridge of her nose, and her temples are pounding. Kate blinds rapidly, trying to focus and ignore the pain.

Moretti is running from her, her blood smeared on his white hair. Then she understands. Moretti must have thrown his head back and hit her in the nose. It's just a nosebleed.

Kate runs forward, after Moretti, but the sound of guns firing and bullets flying through the air cause her to ignore him, and face the door. Three armed men stand in the doorway, and two men are lying behind them, both surrounded by large pools of blood.

Kate manages to fire two shots. She watches the taller of the three men fall to the ground. She's about to fire again when Ryan, who is on her left, shouts and crumples to the ground. Her mind spinning, Kate runs to the only shelter in the room: the desk. She ducks behind it, only to find Esposito already hiding there.

"Espo! What happened?" She had been so focused on Moretti, that she hadn't noticed five gunmen entering the room. Another gunshot hits the glass lamp sitting on the desk, and glass rains down on Kate and Esposito. Kate covers her face instantly, protecting her eyes from the fragments of glass flying everywhere.

"Two SWAT guys were outside, they were both shot! Before we could react, these guys were there shooting!"

Kate hears another body fall to the ground, and she jumps up so she can see above the desk and fires another shot. This time she misses, and almost gets hit herself before she ducks back behind the desk. She hears another body hit the ground. Esposito also jumps up and fires two shots at the men in the doorway. His experience as a sniper must have paid off, because she hears another body fall, and then two sets of feet racing across the granite floor.

Kate jumps up, and so does Esposito. The only person left standing in the room is Lewis. Everyone else is laying on the ground, except the tall, muscular man that had been standing in the doorway and Moretti.

She can't let him get away.

Kate runs for the door, ignoring Esposito and Lewis's calls and protests. She jumps over the bodies of several men, not knowing- nor caring- if they're her friend or foe. She must get Moretti. When she gets to the hallway, she sees two forms retreating: on is Moretti, whose hands are still cuffed behind his back. The other is the missing gunman and one, well placed shot to the back causes his body to crumple, and she knows she won't have to worry about him anymore.

"STOP, MORETTI!" She shouts. He briefly glances at her over his shoulder, but continues to run from her. "Or I will kill you with one shot to your head." For a half of a second, she's afraid that he will ignore her, that he will keep running and she will have to shoot him. But after a moment, he stops. She walks forward, grabs his hands as seven SWAT team members run into the hallway. Two officers immediately take Moretti from her. Reluctantly, she leaves him, and follows the remaining five towards the office.

Two of the members of the SWAT team are lying in the doorway. One is lying in a large pool of blood, while the other is clutching his side, protected by his bulletproof vest, his face contorted in pain. Inside the office, one of the backup SWAT officers is tending to his colleague, who is lying on the ground; his face is covered in blood, though he appears to be breathing on his own. Lewis is crouched next to the man, murmuring something she can't hear to him. She breathes a sigh of relief when the man's mouth moves, saying something back to Lewis that she can't hear.

But her relief is short lived. Beyond the group, next to the desk, Esposito is hovering over Ryan, speaking to him and pressing a cloth to his chest. Kate runs to them, falling to her knees next to Ryan. Ryan seems to have been hit hard. Blood is seeping through his jeans on his right thigh. The blood is pulsing out quickly, with nothing to stop it. Ryan's shoulder is also leaking a steady stream of blood, despite the pressure of Esposito's hands pressed against the wound.

"Beckett, get his leg!" Espo barks at her. Kate rips her vest off, pulls off her grey cotton jacket, and presses it against Ryan's leg. He flinches away in pain.

"I'm so sorry, Kevin." She whispers, wishing she could make the hurting stop.

This is all her fault.

* * *

><p>It's too much. It's all that is being talked about in the precinct, on the TV, and the nation. The station is getting dozens of calls from civilians, families of those who had been involved, and reporters. Kate is always surprised by how fast news can travel in six hours.<p>

Kate has been placed on administrative leave pending the investigation of the incident. Every officer on team one and team four are. Not that she cares much. It was inevitable, and she knows they will all be back on the job soon.

Except for the two that are dead, both shot in the neck. Officer Anthony, father of three and member of the team that raided Moretti's office had been one, and the other was Chris Newton, a member of team one. Neither would ever return to their work, their families, their lives. But many others were luckier. There's an older woman and a middle aged man hospitalized for gunshot wounds, they were both bystanders that were hit by stray bullets. Both are expected to make a full recovery, but Kate still can't help but feel guilty. It's her fault that these innocent people were caught in the cross fire. Four other SWAT officers had been hospitalized, two of them from Moretti's office. One was Andrew Freeman, the man who had been clutching his side because of four broken ribs from the impact of bullets hitting his body. There were two others from the lobby, too. One had been shot in the leg while the other had somehow lost his gun, then had been beaten for a short period of time before his assailant had been taken out by one of the other officers. And then, of course, there was Ryan. He had taken a bullet to the right shoulder, but it had missed all his bones and organs. He had also been shot in the right thigh, but again, it had missed the bone. He was lucky. He didn't have a helmet on, and it could have been far worse.

There was one SWAT officer whom Kate did not know the details of her injury; she only knew was that the officer was expected to live. The officer from Moretti's office, who she had assumed was a man, actually turned out to be Melanie Ryland, a twenty-seven year old female. She was the officer who had the bloodied face, the one who Lewis had been talking to. He had been holding her hand, and it seemed that they had already known each other.

Kate had learned all of this back at the precinct after she had been forced to repeat the horrors of the day to multiple people. So many, in fact, that she had lost count. She had watched from the break room as dozens of men walked into the precinct in cuffs, all working with Moretti. She watched as Roger Calock, the mayor of New York at the time of her mother's murder, walk in. Lewis sat at a desk to her right, its previous occupant relocated for the duration of the case. Stacks of paperwork sat on his desk, all of which Kate recognized as the evidence that Castle had been able to gather regarding the case. Following her interviews and statements, she had called her father and explained everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours. They had both cried.

As soon as she was placed on administrative leave, Kate had taken a cab to the hospital to visit Ryan. He had been in good spirits, joking with her and Esposito, though he had spent a majority of the time reassuring Jenny, Esposito, and her that he really was fine. After about forty-five minutes of talking, he had started to fall asleep, and so, she and Espo had left. He left for the parking garage, and she left for the front of the building where she could hail a cab.

The guilt of what she had done to Ryan, Melanie, and all of the others was eating her alive. The guilt was not merciful enough to swallow her whole. Instead, it picked her apart, piece by piece, slowly ripping her to shreds. The more she thought about the incident, the worse it was, and yet, the less she thought about the day, the worse

The breakdown was coming; it was just a matter of postponing it. But she knew she would welcome the distraction of insanity when it came.

But she's not ready for that right now, and so, she turns and starts walking down the street, not knowing where she's going.

She just wants to escape it all.

* * *

><p>Kate isn't sure why she wandered into this shop. She had never really enjoyed beading, and the only jewelry she wears is her mother's ring around her neck and her father's watch. But there's more to it than that.<p>

For as long as she could remember, her father had owned a cabin in the country. Every summer, her family would spend a month there. At first she'd loved it, but then she became a teenager, and her family had started going to the cabin less and less. The last time she had gone there before her shooting had been just a month before her mother's murder. Her family had gone for a week-long Thanksgiving vacation. And although Kate found that she still preferred the city, she didn't mind the countryside as much as she once did. There was an old beading store in the little town next to the lake where their cabin was. During that particular vacation, Kate and her mother had gone to the beading store, bought thousands of glass beads, charms, and wire and spent an entire day making jewelry. It's one of her favorite memories of her mother. Ever since her mother's death, beading always brings back a bittersweet memory and conflicting feelings that she'd rather not face.

Now, thirteen years later, Kate is once again missing someone important to her life. And so, seeing the old "OPEN" sign lit in the front window, she had immediately turned and entered the small, one room store.

Kate had always loved the charms the most. After all, they are what told the story. She searches through animals, plants, objects, people, words, patterns, and gems absentmindedly when one catches her eye.

It's small, only about the size of her mother's ring. Thicker sheets of metal are molded together at a right angle. In between these two rectangles are several small sheets of metal fanned out. Along the edge where all of these rectangles meet, there is a thicker portion which binds it all together. The outside of the small, silver charm is decorated in fragments of glass carefully melted into the silver. Golds, oranges, reds, and white all mix together creating a vibrant, fire-like color.

It's a book. Not just a book, but a book complete with gold, orange and red covers.

It's one of the Nikki Heat books.

She clutches the charm in her palm, looking for a copy, but it's the only one.

Silently, she takes the charm to the cashier. Behind the counter is an aged woman. Her skin is wrinkled and pale, and her hair is white and wispy. Grey eyes have a look of sincerity, and a slight frown holds pity for the woman in front of her. Kate knows why. She must look like a mess. Her hair, arranged in a side-braid, is wet and stringy, and her makeup is smeared and running down her face. She is wearing her spare grey NYU hoodie that she keeps in her desks for emergencies and dark blue jeans. Her moccasins are wet, completely soaked through from the rain, and make a squeaking noise every time she steps.

"How much is this?" Kate asks, wearily.

"That will be $59.99. It's handmade." The old woman explains. Kate nods, and reaches into her wallet for her credit card. The vender takes the card from her, swipes it, and hands it back. Kate leans down and signs the touch-pad, and glances around the shop as the receipt prints.

"Do you like beading?" The elderly woman asks as she gets out a small plastic bad to put the charm in.

"Oh, I don't need a bag." With a slight raise of her eyebrows, the elderly woman slides the charm across the counter to Kate, who is pulling her necklace, which holds her mother's ring, off her neck and over her head. Carefully, she starts to unclip the buckle that secures the necklace shut. As she answers the woman's question she keeps her head down, trying to avoid eye contact. "And no, I don't really like beading much. But I uh..." She glances up, not sure what to say. The woman's face is only kind, with no suspicion or judgment. Kate sighs and continues. "I lost someone important to me, and this charm... it reminds me of him."

Carefully, Kate locks the clasp of the necklace and slides it back over her head. The ring and the charm are perfect for one another. The book seems to have been made to be accompanied by the ring, which sits nestled in between the pages. She fingers it gently; twirling it and watching as the bright silver of the ring and the orange flame of the book blend together, creating a gold, flame-like blur.

As Kate leaves the store, she can't help but feel the extra weight of the silver book. She now carries two ornaments for the lives she lost, and just one for a life she saved. With a sad smile, Kate steps back out into the rain, determined to carry one more token by the time she dies: a token representing another life she had saved. She owes it to Castle to ensure that his death had more meaning that catching her mother's killer.

There are plenty of lives to save, plenty of people that need help, but no matter how hard she tires, Kate can't figure out what life would matter most to Castle.

* * *

><p>Once again, Kate isn't exactly sure what it was about this business that caused her to turn abruptly and enter its doors. There's nothing very special about the building. Old floorboards echo under her feet and faded lamps make it nearly impossible to see. The chair that she settles into at the counter feels like it might collapse at any second. The counter is sticky, and feels as though it has a permanent layer of grease and dirt on it. Kate hopes this isn't becoming a trend. She has long accepted the fact that she was a bit of a control freak, and so, naturally, she dislikes how unpredictable her emotions and thoughts are right now. But, again, in reality she does understand why she came to this abandon bar.<p>

She wants an easy way out. If there's anything she has learned from her dad's reaction to her mother's death, it's that drinking is easy, and it is most definitely a way out.

So, when the bartender comes over, Kate orders some scotch. After she drinks that in one gulp, she orders another, and another, and another. She keeps drinking, just for the sake of forgetting. After a few drinks, her mind really starts to get jumbled. She feels like she has so many things to focus on, and yet she can only focus on one: Castle's death. And so she orders another drink, and then another. After a while, the bartender stops bringing them, but she'd too far gone to notice. At one point, he attempts to talk to her.

"Bad day?" He asks, his voice gruff, but still sincere.

"My partner was shot." She replies. Her words are strung together in a robotic manner, and her eyes have glazed over.

"Is there someone I should call?" He asks, but she has already wandered off towards the piano, humming "Piano Man" under her breath and remembering better times.

After a while of aimlessly wandering around the empty bar Kate comes back to her seat. She quickly falls asleep, dreaming of a world where Castle was back. But then, she's being jolted awake by Lanie.

"C'mon, honey. Let's get you home." Lanie say sympathetically as she lays some money on the counter of the bar. Kate just stares ahead, unable to focus, so Lanie grabs her arm and yanks her up off her seat. Clumsily, Kate follows Lanie as the walk out the door of the bar, through the streets, and to Lanie's car. They drive without speaking or listening to the radio. It's silent except for the noise of the traffic and occasional siren that are common in New York City. When they get to Lanie's apartment, Kate is immediately handed a pair of shorts and a tank top and a toothbrush. Kate stumbles into the bathroom, throws up, and when she's ready, walks out to the living room where she last saw Lanie.

"'Night, Kate. If you need anything, let me know, 'kay?" Lanie asks. Kate just nods. Suddenly, the long couch with sheets and a thick comforter laying on it look extremely appealing. All she wants to do is sleep. As she lies down on the couch, Kate noticed the trash bin sitting at the head of the couch and the bottle of Gatorade sitting next to it. She is about to make a mental note to thank Lanie, but falls asleep before her sluggish mind has time to process it.

* * *

><p>Kate sleeps late. It's about ten-thirty when she finally wakes. She's still exhausted, yet can't bring herself to fall asleep. A pounding headache and a churning stomach cause her to sit back down as soon as she attempts to stand. After about a half hour of lying awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, Kate once again tries to stand. She makes it, but immediately rushes towards the garbage can, throwing up once more. When she is done, she bends down and picks up the Gatorade. Cautiously, she opens the Gatorade and takes a sip. It stays down, and suddenly overwhelmed by thirst, Kate takes another sip before turning to face Lanie.<p>

"Hey." She rasps.

"Hey honey. How you feeling?" Lanie asks gently. She is sitting at the kitchen table, reading a magazine.

"Terrible." Kate replies honestly.

"Based on how much you had to drink last night, I thought you would." Lanie explains, then turns back to her magazine. Kate takes another sip of Gatorade, then joins Lanie at a table, picks up another magazine, and begins to read.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning Lanie's apartment. Vacuuming, dusting, washing sinks, doing laundry, and mopping the kitchen floor. They don't talk much, but Kate is just happy to have something to do. For dinner, Lanie asks what Kate wants to eat, and automatically, she requests Thai. But the memories are too present and painful, so she quickly changes her mind and explains that pizza would be better. After dinner, they watch a movie. It's some classic that has Lanie in tears, and Kate staring at the screen, glossy-eyed, thinking of Castle. After the movie, Lanie goes to her room, and Kate retreats to the couch. She cries for hours before she finally falls asleep.

The next morning, Lanie is kind enough to pretend that she didn't hear Kate's sobs the night before and instead sips coffee while the two talk. They don't mention Castle or Moretti, the just talk about movies they want to see, books they've read, and renovating Lanie's apartment. At about noon, Lanie explains that she has some errands to run, but Kate choses to stay behind. Lanie's about to close the door, when Kate stops her with a question.

"Lanie?" Kate calls. Lanie walks back into the apartment. She looks at Kate for a moment before replying.

"What?"

"Why did you and Javi break up?" The question is asked quietly, and in a somewhat childish tone.

"I... I don't know." Lanie admits, then pauses to think. "I guess we couldn't understand what the other wanted and how they felt." She says with a shrug. Kate just looks away and nods, causing Lanie to think even deeper. "But now, it seems so stupid." She leaves before Kate can reply.

Kate spends the rest of the day reading Naked Heat. She gets to page fifty-seven when she understands.

Kate runs to Lanie's bathroom to shower. She then scribbles a quick note of thanks to Lanie and explains where she is going. A quick cab ride takes Kate to her own apartment, where she changes into jeans and a dark blue button down shirt. When Kate finally turns to leave her apartment she feels somewhat comforted, because she knows what life Castle would have wanted her to save.

He would have wanted her to be saved from herself.


End file.
